A Saint At My Side and a Demon In My Arms
by mustang-grl
Summary: The appearance of a new evil. The rebirth of a broken Count. The return of Gods warrior. The struggle of a forgotten family member. And the ever going fight between what is right and what feels right. Van Helsing-OC-Dracula triangle.
1. News From the Old Country

Hello everyone. This is my first try at a Van Helsing story, so work with me here. Yes, I know, Dracula or Van Helsing don't show up right away, but don't worry, they will in time. Now go on and read it and after your done be sure to REVIEW! 

Chapter One: News From the Old Country

The small establishment was filled to the brim with drunken men, offering whores, and smoke of the cigar kind. A tavern of this kind was a welcome sight to any weary traveler taking the otherwise deserted roads of southeastern France. Horses were tied up to posts and trees outside, waiting patiently for their intoxicated owners to come swaggering out of the gritty place with rum on their breath and a giggle in their throat. Many men would probably loose their animals, money, and dignity in this place, that is if they didn't die from fighting or alcohol poisoning first.

People yelled to each other from opposite sides of the room, but nobody paid them any attention. Besides, anyone that did stand up and yell something to shut them up would probably get a knife in the bread basket. Many would consider this a dangerous place, but some considered it a place where the grape vine carried many interesting rumors and where opportunities ran rampant. Opportunities that involved a large bounty, a chance at rising in status, or an opportunity to just kill someone to get frustration off your chest. Either way, greasy old pubs like this tended to give people something to do. Whether it was sinful or not was up to them.

The wooden door slowly creaked open, careful to avoid ramming into any passing customers. Quickly and silently as possible a rather large, burley man slipped through the opening before the door was pushed shut by two other men fighting over a spilt drink slammed into it and pushed it shut. A crowd slowly gathered around the two chanting for the favorite. The newly entered man, however, scooted along the side of the bar avoiding the goers at all costs. When he was finally free, the man began pushing his way through the stragglers of the tavern and over to a relatively vacant corner.

"Bloody heathens," he mumbled, "No respect for respectable people."

"You say that about everyone, Charlie," a new female voice broke in after this Charlie man sat down at a table, looking at the top with a disgusted look on his face. Across from him, the woman sat with one leg propped up on the other and her elbows resting on the arms of the chair with her hands clasped in front of her. "Its just that bit of you that charms so many people," she went on with a small smirk and a sarcastic tone.

"Oh, ha, ha. I suppose you think your fairly entertaining don't you, Rawnie?"

"So I've been told," Rawnie replied jokingly and gave a small chuckle. Setting both feet on the wooden planks of the floor, she leaned on the table looking over at her well muscled friend. If Charlie hadn't had been such a stiff, women would have been falling all over him and praising the ground he walked on. He had shaggy dark brown hair, a strong jaw, and baby blue eyes to die for. However, Rawnie wasn't planning on 'dieing' any time soon over a pair of beautiful eyes. "Tell me, Charlie, have you suddenly taken an interest in this kind of crowd or is there another motive as to why you're here?"

"Heaven forbid," he scoffed at the 'sudden interest' comment, "Something was brought for you the other day. Don't know who its from, it doesn't have a return address on it." at that he took a carefully folded letter out of his vest pocket and handed it over to his female companion. The paper was rough between Rawnie's fingers as she peeled back the sloppy melted seal. Carefully unfolding the paper, she narrowed her eyes in the dim light of the tavern as she read. It was a rare occasion indeed when she, or anyone around there for that matter, received mail of any kind. The woman opened her mouth to asked who brought the letter, but the few sentences that were written on the parchment stopped her words dead.

"Dracula has been killed," Rawnie read aloud in a hushed voice, "He's dead. He's gone, Charlie," as she spoke her tone increased to a joyful sound. But as she read on her face melted back into its stoic expression. "Velcan…he's dead." Charlie's face changed as well with this news.

"Rawnie, I'm sorry. He died with honor I imagine. Don't wor-"

"No. Do not give me sympathy for loosing someone I didn't even know. It would be disrespectful to those who did know my brother," she said and shook her head. Placing the letter lightly on the table, she stared down at it, rereading its contents over and over in her head. Dracula was dead. The creature that held the fate of her family in his hands for hundreds of years was gone. Her brother, her father, her…sister? Rawnie's mind came to a screeching halt as she read over the paragraph again. 'We regret to inform you that both brother and sister, Velcan and Anna, have fallen.'

"Anna?" she said out loud with a confused expression. Glancing up at Charlie she shook her head again out of bewilderment. "Who's Anna?"

The man quirked a brow and took the letter from its resting spot on the table. Reading it, he also shook his head. "Sister? Anna? You never told me you had a sister."

"That's because I didn't know," Rawnie shot back in a frustrated tone and yanked the letter out of his hands. Narrowing her eyes in a glare, she pursed her lips before staring back up at Charlie. "Who brought this? Who gave it to you?"

"A woman," the bulky man shrugged his massive shoulders. "She's staying up in the Inn from what she told me," he pointed up to the ceiling toward the second floor where the rented out rooms were located. Rawnie looked up at the ceiling for a moment or two before pushing herself up out of her seat and leaving a coins as payment for her drink.

"Where are you going? Don't you want to talk to her?"

"Don't worry, I'll be back. Make sure she doesn't leave, Charlie," the woman called out and shoved and elbowed her way through the still remaining crowed of the tavern, ignoring the ever annoying whistles she received as she passed by the drunks. Pulling the door open with an aggravated look, Rawnie stalked out into the night air of the hills. Stepping over the sprawled out body of a passed out man, she ran a hand through her short chopped smoky chestnut hair. It flopped in an untamed manner over one of her deep brown eyes which were still set firmly in an aggressive stare. Her long pants scuffed over her boots and onto the ground as she walked briskly over toward her mare. Climbing up on the horse, Rawnie winced slightly and the corset that was latched around her midsection and chest. It was made to be flexible for this kind of activity, but it still bit back when bent the wrong way. Pushing back the large cuffs of her odd jacket type dressing that were draped over her elbows, her gloved hands gripped the reigns and her short heeled boots hit into the side of the beast of burden with a force that told it to get a move on quickly.

The red dirt of the ground flew up as the shooed hooves of the mare ran the road for all it was worth. Wherever this 'Anna' came from, Rawnie was never told of her. The little brother Velcan was the only sibling that she had in her knowledge, and now there was news of a second sibling. A sister. A dead sister. Attempting to forge any sort of relationship with the new found sister now would be pathetic and useless, but the curiosity of an older sister held a wanting for knowledge.

Her house was small. Nothing to extravagant was needed for her plain living conditions, though Charlie had begged her many times to let him help her find a better place to live. It was wedged in between two hills along side a tiny barn, just large enough for her one horse. The unpainted wood of the house left something to be desired, as did the failing roof on one side. When this homely little house came into range Rawnie slid off the horse and jogged for the door, trusting that the animal wouldn't run off. Throwing the door open, she trudged in and went directly for the desk inside the makeshift study.

The interior made up for some of the more non appealing qualities of the exterior. The kitchen, sitting room, dining area, and study made up the first floor while her bedroom made up the top floor. It was all formed into a loft situation that Charlie identified with as a barn. Rawnie could never understand how a son of a baker could have such a high class mind.

As she rummaged through the many drawers of the desk, she never noticed the footsteps sounding throughout her home. As she pulled out several other letters besides her most recent, the woman never noticed the figure standing in the doorway. As she turned to enter her sitting room, she never thought to look before you walk.

"What the hell!" she yelled out when she collided with another's body and in turn dropped the papers to the floor. The next thing the still unknown person knew, a dagger was being held to their throat along with a pistol at their stomach.

"My apologizes, dear," a slick voice rang out with a heavy English accent. The person standing in front of her was not the kind of person Rawnie would ever expect to break into her house. An old woman that had to be teetering on the edge of 70 or 80 was standing perfectly relaxed in front of her. Her thin, white hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense bun leaving her aged yet still graceful face free for all to see. She was a short woman, probably about five feet tall at the most. Long lilac toned robes fell to the ground hiding her feet in the masses. Fragile hands were locked in front of her as she stared up at the younger woman who was a good ten inches taller then her. Though Rawnie had the distinction that just standing in a room with this woman would prove to be exhausting. Her warm green eyes held no fear from the two weapons that were trailing dangerously close to being used.

"Who are you?" Rawnie requested in a stiff voice. She lowered her weapons, but still kept them gripped in her hands. Paranoid? Maybe.

"Of course. I'm Seareinty," the woman started and held out one frail hand in a greeting, "You must forgive me, the door was unlocked when I arrived. A man down the street said you'd be here," she finished and gestured out the door with her other hand. Rawnie stared at the offered hand for a moment before slipping the blade back in its hidden sheath and taking Seareinty's hand and gave it a small shake. This brought a lovely chuckle from the woman. "I will not break, Rawnie."

"How…" she opened her mouth to ask then stopped herself. "You brought the letter. Of course you'd know my name," the short haired woman said mainly to herself.

"Indeed," Seareinty mumbled reassuringly with a small smile. Her eyes studied the taller being in front of her for a moment or two before traveling down to the dropped papers. "Forgive me. I should have made myself known."

"Oh, no, its alright. Just a tad jumpy all of a sudden," Rawnie shook her head and kneeled down to pick up the mess at their feet. The papers ranged from all different tones of colors. Letters from when she was at the ripe age of fifteen to nearly a year ago, most holding the recognizable writing of her father. Years of letters were being held in her hands, yet none to her memory told anything of a sister named Anna.

"Important documents, I imagine?" the old woman suddenly spoke from her new place across the room. Her fingers dropped from the frame of a picture she was admiring as Rawnie glanced up at her, her own fingers still busy stacking the papers.

"To others, no. To me…" she chuckled and sat the still not so tidy papers on the in table. The black leather of her fingers ran over the curving words that were fading just like the image of her family in her mind. Little Valcan and his blonde curls. Mothers tiring face during her pregnant days. Fathers strong determined face that always seemed to soften at the sight of his family. So long, so many years… "Are you from Vaseria?"

"Yes. I've lived there for quite a few years now. Such a lovely place now that that creature is gone," Seareinty answered. The younger woman paused in her motions just for a second at the odd tone drifting through the other woman's voice. Now that that creature is gone…

"So you must have known Velkan, and…Anna," at this question from the woman, Seareinty hesitated.

"Not as much as you hoped I would, unfortunately. I live on the outskirts of town where its quiet," she excused and waved a hand around with a smile. "You understand."

"My friend tells me you brought the letter," Rawnie went on with a small grin, "No offence of course, but you don't seem like the type to be delivering letters to anyone. Let alone the type to be staying in a place like that inn," this said, the old woman laughed.

"Do not worry about my well being. I've come fully equipped with a safe entourage to guard me through the night."

"So you didn't come alone," the interrogator nodded. "Why did you feel the need to confront me, Seareinty?"

"Why all the questions, child?" the elder laughed softly and eased herself down upon the worn sofa.

"I have my reasons."

"Very well," Seareinty started, "From the letter, you already know of the passing of your brother, as well as your sister."

"Keep going," Rawnie urged on and sat down in the equally worn out chair opposite the couch.

"You haven't figured it out yet?" she raised one elegant brow, "You're the last of the Valerious bloodline, Rawnie. The last of the royal family in Vaseria."

"And…?" said woman went on in false ignorance.

"Your father was King of the Gypsies. Your father is dead, as is Velcan. Anna would have been the next as an affect of your absence. Now she is gone, and you are left as the last heir to the Valerious throne. You're the Queen of the Gypsies now, Rawnie."

"And you stayed just to tell me that?" the Valerious mumbled and rubbed her eyes with a bitter smile. Pushing herself up from the cushion, she made her way into the nook of the house which served as a kitchen and went for the liquor cabinet. "Drink?"

"And you choose to just…ignore this fact?" Seareinty continued, not bothering to answer the question as her green orbs followed the young woman as she poured herself a beverage.

"Exactly. Now your catching on," Rawnie nodded while taking a sip of the amber colored liquid and leaned against the counter.

"May I be so bold as to ask why?"

"Would you believe a fear of public speaking?" she laughed a bit before settling back down in the chair. This sarcastic comment earned her a slight glare from the old woman.

"Your people are without a leader, and your lounging about drinking and laughing about it."

"My people? They aren't my people," Rawnie scoffed.

"Then who are your people? Those drunks and prostitutes down at that tavern?" Seareinty argued throwing her hand out sharply toward the direction of the building.

"I have no people," the youngest went out with a raised voice coated with a bit of harshness.

"Oh, really? Well I'd say there are many people on the far side of Romania that would say otherwise."

"Hey, if they wanted me as their leader they should have decided that a long time ago rather then leaving me here to wander what the hell is going on with my family!" Rawnie shot.

"You're a grown woman, you could have gone back any time you wanted!" Seareinty yelled back.

"Not if I wanted to be welcomed I couldn't!" closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, the brown eyed woman tried to calm her temper. "I received letters from my father for years. Never once did he ask me to join him in Vaseria."

The two women stared at each other for quiet some time. Seareintys determined gaze locked with Rawnie's and both knew that the other wouldn't give up easily. The youngest could see why the woman would want her to go back. She was the last of the Valerious, the rightful Queen of the Gypsies. The thought of being royalty, gypsy or no, was tempting she had to admit. But she wouldn't be a good leader at all. Besides, the Valerious had been on the throne for hundreds of years, it was time for a new family to take charge. At least that's what Rawnie thought.

"I see you will not be as easily persuaded as I thought. I leave tomorrow, Rawnie. Sleep on what I've told you, no matter what you think of it. You can't ignore what or who you are, and you can't stay here hiding amongst mountains and bars the rest of your life. Vaseria needs you…Your father would want you to do whatever makes you happy. And I don't see an ounce of happiness dwelling in your body from living here, Rawnie, you don't belong here," the old woman broke the silence and stood from her position on the sofa and slowly glided seamlessly to the door. Opening it with a loud protesting creak from the hinges, Seareinty turned and looked at the back of the still sitting Valerious. "I take my carriage back to Vaseria when the sun rises. If you change your mind, your welcome to ride with me. If you don't then…I bid you farewell, dear."

With that, the old woman was gone into the hills leaving Rawnie in her chair with a sour look on her face. It was a bittersweet time in her life. For so long she had wanted to return to Vaseria and be with her father, little brother, and newly discovered younger sister. They were gone now though, and it wasn't them who would be greeting her in the town. It would be people she didn't know, or would barely recognized. She would be back in Vaseria, but she would be alone just the same.

Screaming to herself in aggravation, the young woman threw the glass of rum across the room and watched it hit the wood boards of the wall sending the liquid and bits of glass flying everywhere. For nearly an hour she gazed blankly on the spot where the glass made impact like it was giving her the answers to all the problems the world ever knew. Minutes dragged on and on and the only movement Rawnie made was the blinking of her eyes now and then, and the gentle rising of her chest from her easy breathing.

Finally, she raised up from her chair and trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. Pulling off her clothing, weapons, and boots and slinging them over numerous pieces of furniture. Dropping the oversized mans shirt that she stole from Charlie over her head, Rawnie crawled on her bed and sat cross legged in the middle of it. Letting her brown eyes trail over her comfy little quarters, she sighed then flopped down on the cheaply made sheets and pillows. Wincing at the sight of the crumbling ceiling above her, she rolled over and stared out the window at the waning moon.

Supposedly there were werewolves in Vaseria, though she didn't know anymore. That was another point to not go.

The old house moaned from a slight wind that blew by outside.

The winters were suppose to be harsh at times in Transylvania. Another don't go.

The bed below her squeaked at a single small movement she made.

Vaseria needed a lot of renovating with the businesses and homes. A lot of work to do to go that far.

Unidentifiable flakes fell from the ceiling and into her hair.

"Bloody hell…"


	2. Vicious Dwarves and Odd Stable Boys

Alright, second chapter. I know I only got one review for the first one, but I like this story to much to just let it go. Now go ahead and read, and I promise that a tad bit of Dracula shows up in the next chapter! 

Chapter Two: Vicious Dwarves and Odd Stable Boys

The sound of the carriage wheels running over the dirt ground was enough to make anyone hum a tune to themselves just to keep from going crazy. The black painted thing was jarring from side to side just enough to make the occupants slide back and forth a little bit every time the horses up front took a galloping step. Voices mumbled to each other about how they couldn't wait to get to softer, smoother ground to ride on. The only problem with fancy carriages such as this one was the fact that it wasn't all terrain.

The old woman inside sitting securely between two bulky men sat in a stiff upright position. She had expected that girl to give in and to join her on the voyage back to Vaseria. But no, that young woman had grown too headstrong from her days of romping with those drunks back there. Clenching her straight jaw, Seareinty fought the urge to turn back and just force her to come to Budapest. People needed that girl, and she probably felt no regrets about leaving them leaderless. Twisting her weathered hands in her lap, she ignored the concerned looks the men were giving her and let out a strong, frustrated sigh.

It was then that the driver of the carriage yelled loudly back to the passengers regarding something coming up on the party. The males in the cab reached for the pistols they each carried and the ones sitting on the outside stuck their head out the windows to look upon whatever was over taking them slowly. Three horses, two ridden and one carrying numerous bags and suitcases. One of the other horses was manned by a fairly unsteady and unsure looking male who was grasping at the reigns like a lifeline. The horse that was nearest to the carriage had a young woman that appeared to be in her late twenties aboard.

"Its that girl, m'lady," one of the men said with the same thick accent that Seareinty held. Moving herself forward as far as she could manage, the old woman glanced out the window at the following three. Smiling, thought it seemed to be mostly to herself, the woman leaned back in her seat and relaxed her stiff body. She was coming. Everything would be alright. Everything would come together.

The ride from France toVaseria would take five days at least. Long stretches of abandoned roads and rough ground served as trouble for the travelers. Sleep was a rarity during their rests along the way. Seareinty, being the eldest, would sleep in the comfort of the carriage while her guards stood watch around it at all times. Rawnie was left grumbling to herself out side while Charlie complained about how he should have never let her talk him into coming on this trick. Though he had to admit, it was nice to get away from that tavern and those French hills.

There were occasions when the group of three horses fell behind the carriage and had to ride some of the night just to catch up. The problem was that as they grew nearer and nearer to Budapest, the threat of violent wildlife grew as well. Charlie wouldn't let his female companion forget about this either. Werewolves this, vampires that. He went on and on, and not matter how Rawnie tried to comfort him, he just found a hole in her words and exploited it for all it was worth. It got to the point where the young woman nearly smacked him across the face from his babbling. Eventually she did shut him up by telling him that the werewolves could hear his talking and would hunt him down if he didn't shut it.

"Are we there yet?" he asked in a timid, whispering voice and glanced around over his shoulder for the ready and waiting creatures that Rawnie said would be there.

"I don't know. I'm just following them," she replied back and signaled up to the carriage ahead that was creeping along through the thick forest.

"So for all we know they could be leading us to the gates of Hell?"

"Yes, that's right, Charlie," she said and smiled to herself. Didn't he trust even a little old woman? Well, there were the five or six large men that traveled with her, but other then that…

"We'll stop here for the night," the driver up ahead suddenly called out. "We should reach the town by noon tomorrow," he went on as the men helped Seareinty out of the carriage so she could stretch out her old legs. Trotting her old mare over to the trees, Rawnie slid off and tied up the animal before riding it of its saddle and baggage. Charlie followed closely and did the same, never straying far from his friend. He may have been born with muscled arms and broad shoulders, but he was one to cower behind the smallest mouse when danger reared its ugly head.

"We're going to take the lady for her walk before the sun fully sets," one of the bodyguards announced. "Watch everything," at that he walked off behind the other men who were staying beside Seareinty and walked at her slow gate. As the other woman watched the group disappear through the trees, she couldn't help be wonder why in the world a woman who was supposedly just a commoner in Budapest would need so many guards. It may have been her fragile age or something like that, but Rawnie found it strange that they went off into the forest with an old woman rather then stay and protect their future Queen.

"Oh sure, just leave us here alone and vulnerable in the forest. We'll be just peachy!" Charlie snapped to no one in particular. It was become evident that this man did not take long voyages very well. While the whiner arranged wood for the campfire that would need to be lit later one, Rawnie gazed out through the trees. She had read stories from her father telling of werewolves in the forests surrounding Budapest. She'd never paid any real attention to them while staying in the little house in France, but now the hints that he had given her about staying alive when confronted with one were beginning to pop up in her mind.

Sitting down on the leaf ridden ground, Rawnie stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed her ankles. Shifting slightly when her pistol dug into her ribs, she grunted and un-holstered it before setting it on the ground beside her. Closing her eyes she leaned her head back against the rough bark of the tree and sighed. Tomorrow she would be back in her hometown. A place that she hadn't seen for so long. She didn't know if she should be nervous, excited, happy, or even scared. The few things she remembered about Budapest consisted of the fact that the town didn't take kindly to strangers at all. Technically she wasn't a stranger, but then to some people she probably was.

"What was that?" Charlie's panicked voice brought her eyes open again.

"What was what?"

"Didn't you hear it?" he asked with wide eyes. "There here. The werewolves…"

"Charles, remember that little talk we had about 'overreacting'?" Rawnie droned and looked around the camp sight. "I don't see or hear anything. Now just relax until that bag of bones gets back."

"Then at least give me something to protect myself with!" the brown haired man exclaimed and looked around nervously. The woman groaned and leaned up with open eyes.

"Charlie, there is nothing out the-" she yelled but was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a single snapping twig. Moving her head quickly, yet steadily in all directions like a surprised deer she gripped her pistol. It could have been a squirrel, or something of that nature. Seeing her friend begin to stand she gestured over to him and whispered in a harsh tone without taking her eyes off the trees. "Don't move."

Moving into a crouching position, she narrowed her eyes to focus in on the space between the trees. It could just be Seareinty and her entourage returning from their walk, but she didn't think they would be sneaking about like this.

Snap.

Crunch.

Something was moving out there, and judging from the time it took between movements, it knew it was being watched. In situations like this it was hard for Rawnie to distinguish between the hunter and the hunted. Rising up slowly she sat one hand against the tree to steady herself and clutched the pistol securely in her other.

"Where are you going?" Charlie's voice penetrated the silence and another series of sounds echoed behind it. Pointing sharply at the man to hush him up, the woman took a step out of the camp. Whatever it was wasn't completely stupid. It knew to take the noise of Charlie's voice as an opportunity to move around, so it couldn't be animal. She hoped not anyway.

Cocking her pistol, Rawnie descended farther into the forest away from the road. She could feel Charlie's worried eyes watching as she crept through the trees in search of the source of the sounds. Her feet stepped lightly over the deadened ground beneath her, and paused every few moments to listen for any sign of life. Darting to her right when she heard a shuffling through the leafs, the young woman pushed herself against a tree, glancing around it in caution. There, movement, just beyond the next tree. Taking a deep breath she pushed herself off the tree and turned toward the place of movement. Nothing.

Letting out the breath, she plastered herself against the tree once more when the noise sounded behind her. Rolling her eyes at herself, Rawnie stepped out from behind the tree to face whatever it was. Once again, nothing…That is until she took a step to her right just in time to see an odd little being run between two of the trunks. It stopped mid-run and turned to her making all sorts of unrecognizable noises. Before she knew it, the thing was running toward her and she was looking down the barrel of her pistol.

The shot rang out through the forest. Charlie's footsteps followed as he ran toward her and the now dead…thing. It lay at her feet like a pile of rotting meat. The outfit it was clothed in was made of rags and other pieces of cloth that were merely sewn together in a sloppy manner.

"Good Lord, what is that?" the masculine voice of Charles rang out when he finally found his friend. "And what is that retched odor?"

"I guess its him, or her…it," Rawnie finally decided and scrunched her face up at the smell that made its way up her nostrils. Dark blood poured from the bullet hole that was now making itself known on the things forehead. Kneeling down, she poked at the mask type object that covered its mouth with her gloved finger. Prying it off the creature, she threw it aside and looked down on the horrid little mouth full of pin like teeth.

"Another one!" Charlie yelled out and pointed over to the side. Rawnie immediately turned on her knee and aimed her weapon toward the still unknown being. It weaved through the trees as she fired shots upon it, unfortunately never making contact. Watching it fade into the forest, her attention was then brought back to the abandoned camp sight.

"Rawnie? Charles?" Seareinty called out. Her bodyguards started fanning out through the forest in search of the missing travelers until one of them almost stumbled over Charlie's crouching form. Letting out the word, the others and the old woman made their way toward the duo. The men didn't seem as surprised to see the creature as the woman did. "Dwerger…" the elder whispered, disbelief showing on her face.

"Dwerger?" Charlie asked with a baffled expression. "What on Gods green earth is that?"

"Servants…servants of…him."

"Who's him?" Rawnie broke in and stood, staring down at the old lady from across the little body.

"Vladislaus…" Seareinty shook her head and backed away from the corpse. "It can't be."

"Vladislaus?" the still crouching man asked once more, glancing back and forth between the two women. The youngest stared down at the Dwerger with a slack face before answering.

"Dracula."

* * *

The night went on without incident. No more Dwergi were spotted, and the stinking body of the dead was carried away by the entourage. Seareinty told the tale behind the little creatures and raised the question as to why they would still be here if Dracula was dead. Rawnie came up with one reason, but decided to keep it to herself. No need to make the old woman stroke out.

Morning arrived quickly to everyone's joy and they continued on down the empty road. The rattle of the wheels up ahead and the sound of Charlie's nervous claims that he heard something came for behind. Days of riding were starting to wear on the Velarious's nerves, and it was beginning to show on her face. Something needed to shut up, rather it be the wheels or Charlie, something had to stop. And the man was closer.

Fortunately for him the town ofVaseria came into view before he felt the sting of a woman's wrath. It lay sprawled out between the mountains like a sleeping cat. No noise came from the buildings or even from the people walking the streets. Quiet, uncomfortably quiet. Those were the first words that popped into Rawnie's mind when she came to the edge of town.

"You will go on from here. I need to get back home, I have some things to tend to," Seareinty said from the safety of her carriage. "I'll be sure to visit you in the manor."

Without giving the gypsy a chance to object, the horses sped off in the direction of the woman's assumed house on the border of town. When the dust from the retreat settled, Rawnie turned to Charlie and waved a hand the town's way.

"Better sooner then later I suppose," she mumbled and tapped the side of the horse urging it on. The minute the hoof of the animal stepped through the rickety gates of Vaseria, all eyes were turned to them. Most held curiosity, some hostility, some welcoming gleams, and then the other part just looked on with blank stares. Charles and his packhorse stayed plastered to the woman's side as they shifted their way past the town's people, keeping as little eye contact as possible. They may have been just gypsies with pitchforks and other farm implements, but they were also gypsies who knew how to use those farm implements in ways that would surely draw blood. Pulling tightly on the reigns when the two reached the main square, Rawnie pulled out the letter from her saddlebag.

"I got the letter," she called out and cleared her voice. She wasn't entirely teasing when she told Seareinty she had a fear of public speaking. "I'm Rawnie Valerious, sister to Velkan and…Anna."

The people just stared up at her as she spoke, but one thing she did notice while she was speaking was that the hostility had disappeared from some of the faces. So far, so good.

"I was convinced by an individual that lives in this town to come back," she went on and looked around at the poorly kept buildings. "I'm willing to take up my place on the Valerious throne in place of my brother and sister. If you wish to have me, I will do so."

Finishing, she then waited. The look on Charlie's face told her that he was thinking the same thing that she was. Either they would be welcomed, or the would hear the makings of a rioting mob. The men and women surrounding them were looking back and forth at one another whispering to themselves. It was then that a man stepped up out of the circle of natives.

"You are Rawnie Valerious?" he asked with narrowed eyes as he stepped up to her. "Let me see the letter," the still unnamed man demanded and held a hand out to take it. The young woman and the older man stared each other down for nearly a whole minute until she made a move to hand over the piece of paper. Snatching it from her hands, he opened it up and read it over before nodding to the crowd. With that nod, smiles spread and the people broke into a cheer. They were this happy to see her?

"Aren't you the popular one today," Charlie commented as Rawnie waved and smiled in a confused manner. Moving her eyes up to her childhood home, she then turned back to the man.

"Let's get the hell out of here," she mumbled through clenched teeth of a smile and kicked the mare in the ribs, sending her into a gallop with the two other horses following closely behind. As they rode the people continued their joyous cheering all down the streets. Didn't they have something else to do with their time? Relieved sighs came from both as they finally reached the mostly cleared out manor. Jumping off the horses, Rawnie and Charlie started to lead them back to the stables that were sitting beside the large building. Surprisingly, other horses were resting contently and healthy in the stalls.

"What are they doing here? And who's taking care of them? Didn't you say that no one else lived here?" the blue-eyed man rambled on as they both looked strangely at the stables.

"I didn't say no one else lived here. I did assume that no one would though," she mumbled and tied the horse up and began to take the tack off piece by piece.

"Well if you ask me, all this is a bit peculiar," Charlie said in a 'so there' tone.

"And that exactly why I didn't ask you, Charles."

"Oh, excuse me while I fix the stitches you put me in," he said sarcastically and dropped his saddle on the ground. "Now, were do we put these?"

"Just leave them there for now," Rawnie answered and placed her saddle next to his before starting to unload the packhorse. Unlatching the various bundles and plopping them on the ground in a messy pile, she led the small horse into one of the stalls and undid its bridle. Watching as Charlie led his own horse into the next stall over, the young woman had to marvel at the condition of the stables. Painted nicely, relatively clean, fresh food and water just waiting for the animals, and warm bedding in every stall. It was pretty sad that the place where the horses were stored was better then some of the houses in town.

"What the blazes? Where's the tack, and your horse? And our stuff!" the male exclaimed when he walked out of the stall. He was right; everything they had left on the ground was gone, including the horse. But they were only in there for a little more then two minutes, how could anyone…

"There! Release those bags you thieves!" he insulted the moment he spotted some men and women carrying their belongings in the manor. Luckily Rawnie was able to catch him before he made a fool of himself.

"Charlie, those are house workers. Like maids and butlers except not as squeaky clean," she explained and led him back toward the stables. While he was breathing slowly and trying to calm himself down, the woman spotted the missing saddles hanging over to fence posts, and next door was her old brown mare munching on some of the food. Setting the man on a bench she jogged over to the objects and looked them over. Was it the workers that did it? They couldn't have just gotten there by themselves, and she would have heardfour orfive people running up and gather the stuff. Then who…

"You smell pretty," a high squeaky voice suddenly rang out next to Rawnie, who turned quickly and looked for the source. Seeing nothing at her level, she tilted her head down to see a small, gangly, red headed man who was looking up at her with child like green eyes.

"Um…thank you?" she replied in an unsure voice. The red head giggled and jumped up and down before scampering over the rails over the stall and peeking out at her from over one of the boards. Man? Boy? Even human? This….male, could possibly turn out to be the oddest person she ever met. Raising a brow, Rawnie gestured around to the horses and the saddles. "Did you do this?"

"Yep yep. I take care of the horses horses, and Valerious let me stay stay," He yapped out and crawled around the stable so he was hanging upside down from one of the rafters while talking to her with a huge smile on his face. Holding back a smile of her own at the boys repeating and animal like crawling skills, the woman bit her lip when Charlie walked up.

"Alright, now enough with the livestock, lets go inside and-AH!" the burly man yelled when he caught site of the little man. Sliding behind his female companion, he gripped her arms and whispered. "What. Is. That?"

"What's your name?" Rawnie asked and pulled away from Charlie.

"Red Red."

"Both his names are Red?" Charles rolled his eyes but still kept his distance.

"No, he repeats things. I think is name is just, Red. Right, Red?"

"Red Red," the little thing went on and nodded with a satisfied smile on his face. Guess he was glad someone understood him.

"Do you live in the house, Red?" the shorthaired woman went on and crossed her arms over her stomach. Red shook his head sending his ruffled red hair spinning.

"No no. I like to to stay in here with horse's horses. Comfy hay hay," he answered and rolled around in a large pile of hay in an empty stall that Rawnie guessed was his home.

"How barbaric," Charlie mumbled and gave the little human a concerned look.

"I don't think it is to him, Charlie," the woman whispered back then tugged on his shirtsleeve. "We'll leave you alone now Red. Tomorrow we'll be sure to come by and visit," she waved and dragged the tall man back toward the manner.

"Wait, pretty pretty smelling lady!" the stable hand yelled across the lot and hopped over the fence before running over to them. Glancing over to Rawnie, Charles mouthed 'pretty smelling lady?' with an amused look on his face. She only sent him a look that told him instantly to shut up. "Gray hair hair man said that if you came came back, that you'd you'd be like pretty lady lady Anna."

"She was just 'pretty lady Anna', and your 'pretty smelling lady Rawnie', huh?" the laughing voice of the proper man announced from behind her.

"Shut up, Charlie," she shot back, "What do you mean, like Anna? What does everyone expect me to do here?"

"Fight the monsters monstersm" Red pointed up to Castle Frankenstein that was looming over Budapest. "I hear things things. Lots and lots of monsters lady lady! I told gray hair hair man, but I don't think think he believes me. No one believes me me. No one listens little little Red."

"And you wonder why?"

"Charlie," Rawnie warned and turned back to the small male. "What do you hear, Red?"

"Scratching scratching, and roars, and yelling yelling! Things crash and break break in there, lady. I think there's something something trying to get out! But they don't listen listen. Noooo one listens to Red Red," the explained and threw his arms out whenever he needed to emphasize something and rolled back on the ground with a pathetic face when he finished.

"He couldn't possibly have heard all that. Look how far away we are from the castle," Charlie pointed out and sat his hands on his waist.

"I don't hear it from here here. No, no, no. When I go up on hills hills to get tasty treats for horses horses I hear. They're scary at night night, lady. Doesn't lady believe believe me?" Red mumbled and pulled on Rawnie's hand like a little child. Looking down at him with unreadable eyes, the woman licked her suddenly dry lips and looked up toward Castle Frankenstein. Her breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes tightly. She could almost hear the noises that Red was talking about. She could hear the raking scratches along the stone walls, the agitated roars, and the yells for help and mercy. Shaking it off and taking a deep breath she nodded slightly.

"I believe you, Red."

* * *

There ya go. Isn't Red just so cute? He's gotta be one of my favorite characters that I've made up. Anyway, now that you're done reading, REVIEW!


	3. Confusion at First Sight

Oh, the third chapter. I know I haven't gotten many reviews, but who cares? I like this story and I'm gonna keep writing, dammit! Now read the chapter…dammit! 

Chapter Three: Confusion at First Sight

"You really believe him?" Charlie's voice echoed through the halls of the Valerious manor.

"Yes, Charlie, for the tenth time, I do."

"But…why?" he asked and looked over and down at her as they walked.

"Because I don't think a person like Red is able to lie. He's too simple," Rawnie responded as they entered the main hall and looked around at the house workers standing about ready to greet their new employer. The youngest of the people was probably in his late thirties at least. An old house run by old people, very cliché. The men were all dressed in simple pants and old worn out shirts that looked like they had seen far to many years of labor. The women were dressed in just as simple dresses that were all dimly colored with stitched aprons covering the front. Judging by the friendly smiles they were all sending the two new arrivals, they weren't the least bit irritated that their job was less then glamorous.

"Ms. Rawnie. It's been so long, too long!" one of the women spoke out in a deep voice and stepped forward with a glowing face. She was a pudgy woman with graying hair that was pulled up on top of her head and cover with a wrap. "And look at you! Finally grew into those arms of yours I see."

"I guess so," she laughed with a stiff smile and took a step back on the laughing Charlie's toe. When she first laid her brown eyes on the woman, she had to make herself not say out loud 'who are you again?'. Rawnie had never thought that some of the workers that were here when she was young would still be working for the family. But, here she was, old Mrs. Danmonet. The nurse maid that looked after the girl for those few years during her mothers pregnancy and the first couple years of Velkans life.

Slight memories of troublesome bath times, endless story telling to try to get the child to go to sleep, messy dinners, and stained dresses that the woman only shook her head and smiled at. Mrs. Danmonet put up with so much trouble and tricks during Rawnie's stay at Budapest, but never cursed or complained about it to the master of the house. The girl had always let out a sigh of relief at that. Her father would never had allowed such nonsense in the home while there were things to be done, babies to be born, and vampires to be killed.

"Mrs. Danmonet, everyone, this is Charles Liefenger," the young woman introduced and jerked a hand back toward the man.

"Charles, how nice to meet you," Mrs. Danmonet started, "its wonderful to see that Rawnie has found a nice man to settle down with," at this statement, the two newcomers eyes widened and Charlie stepped back shaking his head fiercely.

"No, no, no, no, no. God, no. Charlie is just a friend. JUST a friend," Rawnie waved her hands back and forth in front of the still wide-eyed man. "I'm not settled down with anyone at that moment, Mrs. Danmonet."

"Oh, so sorry," the aged woman laughed a bit and motioned over a tall, slim man. "Farrel will take your bags to the room of your choosing, Mr. Leifenger. Ms. Valerious…" she faded off and grabbed the new Queens bags in her hands.

"Mrs. Danmonet, if you don't mind I'd rather go find a room by myself. Get to know the place again," Rawnie interrupted and took the bags from the older woman. "I'll be sure to check back with you later though."

Smiling warmly and giving a brief nod, Mrs. Danmonet watched as the woman ascended the stairs to the second floor behind Charlie and Farrel. At the top, the two men went to the left while the lone female traveled to the right. In the main hall, the apron-clad woman shooed the staff off to do their work and she disappeared through the halls and into the kitchen to prepare the meals for the new occupants of the house. All the while her eyes kept tilting upward to the ceiling, anxious to see her old charge again and ask about her life.

Meanwhile, Rawnie had wondered her way up to the top floor and down an old familiar hall. The thin green rug shot its way down the wooden floor and down to the opposite wall where it branched into yet another hallway. Lamps lit the way from their hanging places on the walls, and paintings stared down at her with seemingly moving eyes. All of them watching her like someone would glare at a stranger strolling through their household. Not that she could blame them. The house felt different, changed, unfriendly even. Maybe it was just the fact that she had been away for so long, or that she was no longer the little girl that felt so small walking through these halls. Or maybe it was because she was truly unwelcome here.

Most of the doors were closed, keeping their contents hidden from the searching woman, but her foggy mind somehow placed together which room was which. A study to the left, a simple sitting room to her right, and a storage room up ahead. Of course, she always had to keep in mind that she had been gone fortwenty-two years and things may have been switched around, but at the moment all she was focused on finding was the room. The room that she had envied when she was a child. The beautiful bed, the velvet comforter, the gleaming furniture, the billowing curtains, and her most favorite, the spacious balcony overlooking Vaseria.

There it was, she could see the door as she turned the corner. Nestled at the end of the hall the double doors stood just waiting to be opened. The doorknob was as shiny as it was the day she wrapped her pudgy toddler hand around it and made her mother promise to let her move in when she was old enough. Except now the hand was larger, stronger, and covered in coarse leather gloves, and there was no mother standing behind her with a beautiful smile on her face. Just a long, empty hallway.

"Perfect," Rawnie sighed out when she entered the chambers. Surprisingly, everything had stayed remarkably the same. The same dressers, wardrobes, chairs, desk, bed, and even the old umbrella rack in the far corner. Dropping her bags on the floor at the foot of the bed, the woman placed her hands on her hips and turned to gaze over her new home. A satisfied smile spread over her face and her shoulders squared as she slowly felt herself relax in the new surroundings. But suddenly her smile faded, her shoulders dropped, and the relaxation disappeared and was replaced by abandonment. Over the large fireplace was a picture. In the picture four cheerful faces stared down at Rawnie.

Mother, father, Velkan, and Anna she assumed. The four of them were huddled together with smiles on their faces, even father, just like a big happy family should look. Rawnie could feel a look twist on her face that she couldn't name just yet. Anger, jealousy, sadness, betrayal? She was angry that she wasn't allowed to grow up with parents, she was jealous that Velkan and Anna were able to have all that she wanted, she was sad because they looked so happy, and she felt betrayed because they were so harmonious without her.

"Rawnie? There you are, I'm going to have to put a bell on you so I'll be able to find you in this maze of a house. Just wanted to let you know that my room is down on the third floor to…the…right…" Charlie broke in and started to drift off when he spotted the look on his friends face and the picture on the wall. "Oh, dear. So, that's them is it?"

"Mmhmm," Rawnie replied without breaking the stare with the painting.

"That's Velkan?"

"Yes."

"And Anna?"

"Suppose so," she nodded. Charlie looked back and forth from the painting to the woman beside him a few times before taking a few steps toward the fireplace.

"She has your eyes."

"What?" the woman asked with a quirked brow.

"She does, just look at her. I admit that other then that she doesn't look a thing like you…well, except for the shape of your nose a bit and…" the man stopped right there when Rawnie threw him a look, "…anyway, the similarities between the eyes is uncanny."

"It's a painting, Charlie. They aren't always that accurate," the gypsy argued and made her way to the bed and plopped herself down on the soft blankets. "You don't suppose this was her room do you?"

"Well," Charlie hummed and strode around the room with his hands clasped behind his back. His blue eyes roamed over the décor of the chambers, studying every piece of furniture and every cut of cloth. Coming to the wardrobe, he opened it slightly and peeked in. Finding all kinds of women's clothing, he shut it back and turned to his companion with a lying grin plastered on his face. "No, this was definitely not her room."

Staring at the goofy man, Rawnie couldn't help but let out a good-natured chuckle and shake her head. She knew there was a reason why she brought him along.

* * *

The Valerious manor was deathly quiet. Not a creaking door was heard, nor a groaning stairway under moving feet. All were peaceful, and all were silent. While the interior was comforting, outside rain pounded down on rooftops and windows, while thunder rumbled like cannon fire in the distance. Lightening lit up rooms showing the children ofVaseria that there were no monsters in the corner. Though with all the rough times the town had endured, some of the adults needed that reassurance as well. Unfortunately, the quiet night could not last forever, and the flashes of light could not illuminate the rooms for more then a few seconds.

The precious seconds, however, were just enough to light up a large figure perched atop one of the many steeples out in the harsh weather. Water beat down upon it, but no movement came from the being. If one glanced out the window at the sight they would have dismissed it as a possible statue, but if they were to look long enough they would be able to see the slight movements here and there. The stretching of the wings, the movement of the head, and the whipping about of the long black hair that ran down its monstrous shoulders.

Long claws dug into the stone of the tower as dark eyes searched the empty streets for any sign of life. Everyone asleep in their cozy beds, just as they should be. No one to disturb him while he did this task for his….master. Get what was needed and return. No distractions. At least that was the plan until a window was thrown open from across the street and a woman ran her hands over her face and screamed at the top of her lungs.

"VAMPIRE!"

With that one word the whole town seemed to spring into action. It seemed years of dealing with such creatures had taught them to sleep lightly. Lamps were lit, doors suddenly thrown open, and weapons instantly grabbed for. The towns people flooded into the streets searching high and low for said vampire. Still positioned high above the pitchforks, the creature let out a frustrated scream that shook the people to their cores. Spreading its wings to full span, the assumed statue screeched out again before taking to the skies and parting his way through the sheet of rain.

The sound of panicked screams and yells from the gypsies spread across Budapest in a huge wave. Within mere moments the alarm was out telling all that the danger of vampires was back. Women and children were kept inside while the men gathered together and followed after the creature, all the while pointing toward the home of their leader, both hoping that she would be of some assistance or that she could handle herself. The later being thought because the creature was edging dangerously close to the manor.

Thick glass and heavy rain kept most of the sounds outside from leaking in and disrupting the still sleepers, but the uneasy feeling that was slowly covering the city did not fail to include the manor in its consumption. The workers tossed and turned in their slumber, Charlie muttered to himself, and Rawnie's body began covering itself in a thin layer of sweat. Her eyes rolled behind the closed lids and her hands twitched beside her. Something was coming. She could see herself getting up and looking out the window only to see nothing and go right back to sleep, be in the back of her mind she knew it was only her subconscious conjuring up images to make her stay in bed. The woman's interest and suspicions were too strong though.

"Nosferatu!"

The high-pitched cry of a woman outside brought the Valerious eyes snapping wide open. Turning her still laying head toward the window, she stared out into the darkened night. Rain made it nearly impossible to see even three feet beyond the window, which made Rawnie sit up slowly in the bed to increase her level of vision. She breathed carefully and inched her hand over toward the side of the mattress to feel the slight lump of the pistol in its safe hiding place. Going for the bedside table she took a chance and turned her back to the window while opening the drawer to find the dagger still inside. Swallowing a lump that had somehow formed in her throat, she started to turn her gaze back toward the window until she spotted the shadows on the wall. Lightening flashed and allowed the silhouette of the window, rain, and another new, larger and menacing, object to show on the wall.

Freezing in her place Rawnie watched the shadows fade from the wall, and reached her hand into the drawer till she felt the comforting feeling of the blades hilt in her hand. Something scraped over the glass doors of the balcony sending a shiver up and down the woman's spine. Taking in a long ragged breath, the Queen of the Gypsies jerked her eyes back to the window and took in the sight. Awaiting eyes were there to greet her own and the instant they met, the creature slammed its way through the doors. In the same moment, Rawnie took to the floor and grabbed the loaded gun from its hiding place and cocked it before looking back up again.

Water dripped from its body onto the floor in front of her as he stared down upon the woman with narrowed eyes. Tilting her head up, she clenched her jaw when the ebony eyes once again met with hers. Suddenly the weapons in her hand no longer trembled with anxiety and fear, but they remained calmly held in her hands. It was odd to her, very odd. She knew what vampire trickery felt like, she knew the pulling feeling in your mind when one tried to roll you, but she didn't feel any of that. Yet here was a very large, and very dangerous looking bloodsucker over her, and she felt calm and unconcerned. Then she realized it was something about his eyes. Vampire's eyes are empty of feeling and remorse, but this creature's eye held something. Struggle? Wheels were turning in his mind, his demon like face was stiff, and his hands dug into her mattress tearing all that came in contact with the claws. It was almost like he was…fighting something.

All the suspicions were nearly confirmed when he all of a sudden reared back with an earsplitting howl and grabbed his head. Falling back off the bed, he landed back first onto the broken glass on the floor before stumbling to his feet. Wings shot out as it screamed again and shook his head sending black locks of hair over the agitated face. Clambering out of the opening and onto the balcony, he took to the skies emitting shrieks as he took a dive down toward the town.

"Damn it all!" Rawnie yelled to herself and clumsily threw her pants on and pulled on her untied boots.

"Ms. Valerious! Dear God, are you alright?" Mrs. Danmonet breathed out as she entered the room and shuffled over to the young woman.

"Fine, fine. Stay here and make sure Charlie doesn't wake up," the shorthaired one explained. She knew the man would still be slumbering; he could sleep through anything. "The last thing I need is him out there to be another bother."

The older woman nodded and placed a hand over her mouth with worry as the other ran out the door and down the flights of stairs. Oh, will trouble ever stop following these Valerious children?

Throwing the doors open, Rawnie took off down the street and into the bowels of Budapest. Her heels rang out through the screaming on one of the few stone streets as she searched the skies for any sign of the vampire. Coming to an intersection, she weaved to her left and skidded to a halt when she spotted a mob of people right in front of her. Seeing their leader, they all parted aside as she ran forward. Another cry from the creature filled up the sky as it flew up out of the mass of people with one of them in its grasp. Firing shots upon it, no matter how helpless they may be, Rawnie emptied the pistol. Watching it fly off threw the curtain of wet hair that was forming over her eyes, the woman sighed. Being Queen of these people was not going to be easy.

"He took her!" a mans voice yelled out through the storm, "That monster…that monster took my wife!" kneeling in the middle of the crowd a young man cradled a shoe, most likely his wife's, in his hands. People all around shook their heads, women cried, men cursed, and children went around asking what was happening. Going over to the man, Rawnie pulled him to his feet and wrapped one arm around him in a small comforting hug and gave a light kiss on his cheek like a good Queen should, and pushed him lightly toward some other people before standing and began her slow walk back to the house with dagger and gun still held in her hands. With a solemn look, the woman tilted her head to the ground in thought. First those Dwergi things and now a vampire. If it was really him or not was beyond her, but she needed help. They all did.

* * *

"What do we do?"

"There's no hope! We are fated for this end!"

"We must leave this place!"

"No, we must fight!"

"We cannot fight that monster once again! It will be a blood bath!"

All different voices argued back and forth in the main square ofVaseria the next morning. Mothers held their children close as people shouted out ideas as to what to do about this vampire problem that had made itself known once again.

The Queen of the Gypsies sat unmoving on the wooden side of the well in the center of all the commotion. With one leg propped up with a loose arm thrown over it and the other lazy leg left dangling off the side, she looked severely unconcerned about the whole ordeal. Beside her, Charlie was leaned against the well with his arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. His handsome face was molded into a worrisome expression that almost made the woman smirk. Behind her on the other side of the well, Red was swinging his legs in the deep hole while his small, but obviously strong, arms held him up.

"We have no other choice," a males voice stated in a deadpan voice. "This beast must be killed at any cost. There is no other option."

"We could not do it before, why do you think we can do it the second time around?" a younger man asked and stepped up defiantly. At this, the older man was at a lose for words and sighed to himself.

"What did you try the last time?" Rawnie finally spoke up and turned her relaxed gaze to the boy.

"Holy water, steaks, crosses, even dragging him into the sunlight, m'lady! The creature will not be vanquished!" he answered with a pitiful look on his face. Running a hand over her eyes, the woman slowly and carefully stood on the plank of wood so she could look out over the crowd.

"Besides trying all that again, does anyone have any intelligent suggestions?" she asked loudly and crossed her arms over her chest, imitating Charlie. The towns people looked around at each other hoping that someone would think of an idea of some kind. Silence was the only response Rawnie received for some time until a small woman's voice rose over the crowd.

"Van Helsing! Someone should bring Van Helsing back!" heads turned toward the female as she spoke and pushed her way through the people.

"Van Helsing," Rawnie said in an even tone as she mulled the name over in her mind. Ah, the warrior from Rome that she'd read of in the letter.

"Yes, m'lady. He left word before he left that he would always be of help to us, all we need is to ask," the large eyed woman went on with a nod.

"He comes from Rome as far as I know. But Rome is a large city, unless he left a specific location…"

"He did! The Vatican m'lady, he said to seek him at the Vatican!" she finished and the people around her nodded and agreed.

"Even so, Rome is a far ride. The beast will surely find out of our sending for Van Helsing and stop the traveler," the young man noted and only a few agreed with him. Rawnie stood looking down at the people. Her people. Their faces told that they were counting on her for safety. Holding back a groan, she tilted her head toward the sky and rubbed her neck. Blinking her eyes slowly, she gazed out over the surrounding landscape of Transylvania. Though the trees and hills may have been beautiful, the only thing that held her attention was the castle looming between them. He was up there, the creature was. Red had been right, and no one had listened to him. Twisting her upper body to look back at the boy, she grinned at him when he sent her a big smile from his crouching position.

"I'll go," Rawnie finally said and returned looking upon the crowd. She would be gone for days, and more people would probably be carried away, and most likely killed. But all for the good of the cause right? She thought that, but had the feeling that her brother and sister would be angry at knowing she did. "I'll go to Rome and get this, Van Helsing. I'll bring him back, and this…thing, will be killed. I give you my word."

With that she jumped down from the well and immediately headed back to the manor ignoring the cheerful sounds from the people and the concerned look Charlie was sending her.

"Your not going, Charlie," the woman said after a few minutes to reassure the still cross-armed man as they walked toward the stables with Red close behind. However, Charlie's reaction was not what she thought.

"What? You can't go alone!" he exclaimed and stood in front of her with a determined look on his face. Rawnie only quirked a brow and smirked.

"You want to go?"

"Well, no, of course I don't WANT to go. But I can't let you go on your own."

"I'll be fine, Charles. Besides, I don't need someone else along to look after." she said and pushed past him.

"Then get someone that can take care of themselves to go with you," the man stopped her again and held onto her shoulder. The two stared at each other for a moment before the woman sighed and shrugged her shoulders slowly.

"Alright. Do you have any preference in who this person should be?"

"Oh, oh, I'll go go with you, lady!" Red suddenly sprang up and waved his hands in the air. "I can take take care of myself!" Charlie only snorted and shook his head.

"No, Red. You have to stay here," Rawnie tried to explain and patted his red haired head.

"I really can can! Stay here lady, don't don't move!" at that last word, the small male took off toward his stall in the stables and began sorting through things.

"Come on, let's go before he comes back," Charlie urged and the woman only glared at him and watched with unreadable eyes when Red came running back with a fairly expensive looking bow and arrow in his hands.

"Where'd you get those, Red?"

"Pretty lady Anna gave gave them to me before she she went away," he explained and the two older people just looked at each other with worry filled eyes. "Watch lady, see the the birdy?" he pointed up to the partly cloudy sky at a passing flock of small birds a ways away. "That's mean mean Dracula…"

Pulling back the bow, Red took his sight down the arrow and his freckled face scrunched in concentration before he let the pointed object fly. The bow hummed and twirled in his grip as they all watched the arrow shoot through the air and take it home into the breast of the bird. Two of the three let their jaws drop and their eyes gape open. As the target fluttered to the ground, Red squealed and skipped over to his prize. Rawnie and Charlie slowly walked after him, the more then shocked expressions still on their faces.

"See see, lady? I can take care care of myself!" the boy announced proudly and held the steel formed arrow out to her with the little bird still impaled on it.

"He hit it," Charlie mumbled and took the arrow next. "A perfect hit. He made a perfect hit." Laughing to herself, Rawnie ruffled the stable boys hair and shook her head in amazement before speaking in an amused voice.

"Are you packed?"

* * *

Okay, third chapter: done. Hope you liked it. Can you tell I'm trying to get to the point? Good now, REVIEW!


	4. Journey to Rome

Well I'm back with another chapter for those that read this little story. Don't have much to say up here this time, so get on to reading. 

Chapter Four: The Journey to Rome

The early morning light pierced through the trees of the path and glared down on the travelers as they started on their way once again after resting for the night. After being on the road for only a day or so, Rawnie came to the conclusion that Red was not the ideal companion. He was entertaining enough, but he had a strange fascination with singing his own songs. The words didn't make sense, his voice could never stay on one chord long enough, and he sang so loud that she was surprised that Dracula, or whoever the hell it was, hadn't gone ahead and killed them just for the music. In an attempt to stop the noise, Rawnie had raised her voice at the boy but had regretted it almost immediately. The big green eyes and sad little voice turned out to be two of her weaknesses.

She could tell by the very beginning that it was going to be a long trip that she knew she would end up cursing to the depths of Hell. The Transylvanian horse she had been equipped with did much like her, the new saddle wasn't broken in yet, and it seemed that she constantly had a rock in her shoe. More then once she thought that someone was trying to tell her something. Something that probably meant she shouldn't have gotten mixed up in all of this and should have stayed back in France where it was relatively safe.

The first night they stopped to rest, Red couldn't sleep because he suffered from a strange fear of not sleeping in hay. Before they took off the next day, Rawnie quickly remedied that by borrowing some hay from an old farmer. She would not spend another night listening to that boy chatter on and on.

The second night was a bit more comfortable. Red was able to go to sleep just fine on his new bed of hay and the woman was able to get a few winks herself. Unfortunately for her she was never able to rest long. It just wouldn't do to drift off and be killed in her sleep while there was a loaded pistol in her hand and several blades placed here and there on her body. That would be a sad and pitiful thing.

Night three was edgy. They were taking the traveling at an easy pace seeing it that they were making good time. The night was oddly calm and the air dangerously cool. It seemed that the closer they grew to Rome, the more threatening the atmosphere became. She had been warned that if this vampire was who everyone feared it was, he would have no problem hunting them down at such a distance. But then again, no one was certain if this is really who everyone feared. After all, he was dead. Right?

"How much longer longer, lady?" Red asked in his same excited voice from behind the woman. She had told him her name, but still he insisted and never using it.

"We should make it by sundown. I hope…" Rawnie whispered the last comment and glanced around the thinning trees. The fourth day of travel and no sign of those gruesome Dwergi or the vampire. At any other time she would have been glad that they have had such good fortune, but the warnings from the townspeople were troubling her. Most were sure of who it was, and that he would hunt them down. Rome was only a stones throw away, so if the creature wanted to attack, it would be soon. As the trees grew smaller and less plentiful, Rawnie began to worry about the amount of cover they would have. Being caught in the middle of an open field facing a flying predator couldn't prove to be a good thing.

* * *

"_Tsk, tsk, tsk, Vladislaus. I made it so easy, so easy for you. Are you truly that unreliable_?" a voice hissed from the darkness beyond the door to the circular room that served as a cell. Inside, the prisoner winced at the sound of the voice and rested his head against the cold glass of the window. It would be so simple for him to smash it and be free of all this, but…

"_I specified the girl, gave you details, all the information you needed, but somehow you still managed to fail me, Vladislaus! How can you be so moronic_?" the still unknown speaker continued on with the verbal abuse as eyes peered through the small opening through the door at the man.

His current state was rather pitiful and neglectful. His long black hair was messed and tousled around his shoulders and back, long since been yanked from its usual well kept up do. The rather elegant attire he wore was dirty with dust and cobwebs that clung to him like a second skin. His real flesh, however, was coated in a light sheen of sweat that creatures of his nature rarely secreted.

Around his slouching form, old pieces of furniture lay strewn about. Most of them were bent and in poor shape from the violence that his anger and grief had been putting them through the past few months. The stone walls of the room were clawed and crumbled in some places; more evidence of his anguish. Off in one corner a long wooden box that served as a makeshift coffin set with the lid laying messily to the side.

"I brought a girl. What difference does it make as to which one?" he hissed in response, his eyes still staring out the window at the village below.

"_You know very well what difference it makes_!" the now bellowing voice rang out and the door flew open, hitting the wall with an echoing bang. The owner of the harsh tones stepped forward into the room, the long darkened robes clutching the ground as they moved.

When the figure entered the chamber, Vladislaus stumbled most uncharacteristically away from the window to the opposite side of the room, his eyes constantly on the person. His booted feet slid across small animal carcasses that he had been forced to feed from, and his hands roamed over the wall at his back as he moved.

"_You never fail to entertain, Vladislaus,_" the voice laughed from within the layers of cloth over it's face. "_So nervous, so cautious. The fear in you is most delightful,_" they finished with a sickening sweet tone to the voice.

At these remarks, the mans eyes narrowed and his strong jaw clenched. He knew the danger, he knew that it wouldn't work, but he had to try. He had to fight this monstrous control that he felt weighing on his mind. Letting his aggressions take control, Dracula lunged for the robed one with a morphing face and elongating teeth. His beastly scream rose through the room and flowed through the castle as he attacked. The stones shook and the doors rattled with the roaring, but in one instant it was suddenly cut off like the world had gone deaf.

After those few moments of pure silence went by, a human like scream replaced the last thundering cry. Though this one held pain and panic instead of rage and violence. Inside the oval room, Vladislaus had taken to his knees and was grasping his head in his shaking hands. Scooting quickly away from the dark form in front of him until he brushed against the wall again, the man closed his mouth in an attempt to stop his screams.

"_My, how the mighty have fallen. Wouldn't you agree my dear, Dracula_?" the voice once more spoke up and came toward him in such a motion it would almost be classified as slithering. When the hems of the robes gathered at Vladislaus' knees, the being knelt down in front of him, and the shaken man glared with death wishes glazing his eyes.

"_I know what you did and what you didn't do. That girl was within your grasp and you let her slip away because of your constant struggle against me_!" the words were spoken at first in a light tone, but then rose to the familiar stinging anger. "_Don't you see what we could accomplish if only you would be more cooperative, Vladislaus? How much we could destroy, and rebuild as our own_?"

"I refuse to act as your puppet, whether I benefit from this in the end or not," he replied in a hoarse voice.

"_Such hypocritical words for one who took such joy in cutting the strings of free will from so many people, and making them dance on your strings of illusion,_" the figure stated and began to reach a hand out of the dark folds of cloth toward the man. He squirmed as the old, bony thing hovered over his face and ran claw like nails down his cheek. He wanted, no, needed to get away from this creature. He willed himself to lash out, jerk away, to do something, but the beings talons were still firmly latched to his mind.

"_Is it sad for you to hold the knowledge that you are mine? My creation, my work of art. To know that my hands brought you forth from your brimstone fate,_" the voice said in a whispered tone and the hand ran up and down his pale face in slow movements. "_I have overcome both God and Lucifer. You should be more thankful to be out of the grip of religion, Vladislaus_."

Taking the hand back, the keeper of Dracula stood and backed toward the door, their unseen eyes gazing at him dangerously. The vampire pushed himself up with the help of the wall and tilted his head back to let it lean on the stones. It was leaving, finally. The further away he was from that…thing, the less he felt the pull on his mind. But he knew it would always be there, he would never be able to separate himself from it unless the being allowed it. The dark ones reach would keep hold of him even if he was sent to Hell and back. It would always be there to see that he was doing as he was told. Like some disobedient animal.

"_Find the girl. Bring her back here,_" the voice once more interrupted his thoughts. "_Kill whomever she's with, but keep her well and alive. We need her healthy_."

"Of course," Vladislaus replied and nodded his head. She would need to be healthy…Turning to the window, Dracula melted into his more demonic side and threw the two halves of glass open.

"_Return with the girl safe and sound, and perhaps I will reward you with the privilege on feeding off that peasant you brought instead of these rodent vermin. Now go, and do not fail me again, Vladislaus,_" that said, the figure turned and swiftly exited the room before the door slammed behind her. The transformed man stared at the closed door for a moment or two before hurling himself out the window and into the overcast sky of dusk.

* * *

"Lady?"

"Yes, Red?"

"Its sundown sundown, lady."

"Yes, Red."

"Where's Rome Rome?"

"We're not there yet."

"But you you said…"

"I know, Red. Believe me, I know."

She knew alright, and she wasn't at all happy about it. Maybe they had taken a wrong turn somewhere that led to a detour, or maybe they were just going slower then she thought they were. Either way, they were behind on schedule and the fading light was a constant reminder of it. They weren't going to make it to Rome this night, and that thought just fried Rawnie's bacon. She didn't want to sleep out in the forest again. She wanted to be in the city were there were probably numerous empty beds that she could fill.

Bringing a flask out of her saddle bag, the woman poured its warming and refreshing contents down her throat as she thought. Was she a bad person for not caring as much as she probably should about the people of Vaseria? Most people would probably yell out a 'hell yes' at that question. Then there were other people, like her friends back in France, that would see the flask in her hand and yell 'hell yes', and just completely ignore the problem at hand. At the moment, she was just trying to figure out if she was like her friends or not. When she got that question answered she would find out the answer to another question in her life. If she was truly an alcoholic or not.

"I'm hungry hungry, lady," Red whined and rode up beside her, leaning over the gab between the two horses and resting his head on her shoulder like a child.

"I know, Red. I am too," Rawnie responded and let out a sigh. At the moment, food wasn't something that they had an abundance of. She had packed just enough for those first few days and had planned to stock up in Rome when they arrived. Unfortunately, things always had a habit of never turning out the way they were suppose to.

"Are are you scared?" the red head asked.

"Why should I be scared?" the woman asked with a raised brow and another swig of the rum.

"Of the monster monster. Aren't you scared scared that it'll swoop down down and…"

"No, I'm not scared. So you shouldn't be either," she answered confidently and started pulling her horse to a stop, followed by Red. "We'll stop here for the night. I'll try to get a fire going, you tie up the horses," the gypsy stated while sliding off the animal.

"Alright alright!" Red agreed cheerfully and came down off his own horse and began tying the reigns to a nearby tree. In the middle of the small ring of trees, Rawnie stacked the pile of sticks and other leafy items that were laying around the forest and began working at sparking up a flame. Behind her, she could hear Red dragging out his bag of hay and pouring it over the ground for his little nest. Hay would be much more easy to light up, but Rawnie could only imagine the eyes the younger of the two would give her if she took his bed away.

"Any food food, lady?" mentioned male spoke up just as a spark flung off the two rocks in the woman's hands clung to the sticks and started up the makings of a fire.

"There should be a little left," she replied and looked over at the young man. He was currently sitting in his pile of hay, tilting back and forth and looking at her with a big grin. "Don't worry…I'll get it," she huffed and stood from her crouching position, emitting a small giggle from the boy.

Shaking her head as she plodded her way over to the horses, Rawnie couldn't hold back the smile that threatened her attempted bad mood. The annoying, yet still undeniably enjoyable attitude of the stable boy was something she could never resist. That is until she took a swig of her alcohol, then she was back on track again. Flipping up the top of the small box dangling off the side of the saddle, the woman narrowing her eyes as she looked out at the mostly set sun. Full darkness would soon pour upon them and even more possibility of danger would set in.

"Lady?"

"Yes, Red?"

"I saw something."

"It was probably a rabbit or something," she mumbled and pulled a few pieces of bread and some cheese out of the pack and tossed it to him. "Eat and sleep, and they'll all go away."

"Do rabbits rabbits fly?" Red spoke with a full mouth and made little flapping gestures with his hands.

"Fly?" That information brought a seriousness to Rawnies features. "You saw something flying?"

"Yep yep, right over top of the trees trees. Going that way way, lady," he pointed to his right and took a bite of his cheese. Standing at the edge of the tree framed boarder around their campsite, the woman looked out into the dim darkness. Pursing her lips, the Queen backed up and grabbed a stick from the ground before dipping it into the fire. Happy with her new torch in hand, her loaded gun at her side along with her sword, and other various items that could be used as weapons on her person, Rawnie slowly made her way through the trees.

"Stay here, Red," she shot back to the boy when he started making his way after her. She was sure that later on in life she was going to regret not bringing along any backup one of these times.

Leaving the site behind, she crept through the trees while pulling the pistol out of its resting spot. The last time she went for a frolic in the woods, she ended up having to shoot down a vicious little Dwerger creature. This time, however, she had a feeling that it wouldn't be as simple as shooting a simple bullet at a stinky little dwarf.

The thinning forest was draped in a blue darkness that signaled the final setting of the sun. Soon the black night would be upon them and they would be in the vampires territory. She had stakes, crosses, a few drops of holy water, and some silver bullets in case they ran into a werewolf, but if this creature was anything like the stories and the townspeople told, both her and Red were left to his mercy. And she didn't think that creatures such as this would show much, if any, mercy.

So far she spotted nothing unusual. A few fallen limbs, a stump of a tree over there, poor looking little bushes here…Nothing to be worried about. The flame blazing at the end of the torch roared as she moved it from side to side in front of her so she could clearly see the way through the less then smooth terrain. Sighing to herself, Rawnie glanced back at the glowing fire of the campsite then turned back to the forest. It was a fact of life that people needed to go to the bathroom now and then on the road, and she was no different. The thing was that she was a little bit unnerved by the thought of going in the middle of the dark woods when a vicious winged creature could be lurking about. But, when you have to go, you have to go…

Of course, fate wouldn't allow nature to make the call. Just as she had finally hacked up the nerve, something passed over the tops of the trees knocking down a few small branches and twigs. The woman cursed at her luck and pointed the pistol toward the sky that was still giving off just enough light to aim accurately, but that wouldn't last long. Racing off back to the beacon of the fire up ahead, Rawnie tried desperately not to trip on some poorly placed log. She didn't need a broken ankle.

"Red! Red, get your bow and arrow, and get on the horse!" she screamed as she burst into the circle of trees. The young man nodded quickly and pulled himself off the bed of straw and started toward the horses. He never made it to the animal or the weapon though. Out from behind the raging horses, a towering figure lumbered out and stood on the other side of the fire, opposite the two travelers. Red scurried back by Rawnie as they both looked on with gaping eyes.

The flames illuminated the light grayish tone of skin and threw shadows up on its beastly face. Wings were tossed out to the side, their transparency shown clearly by the light. Its black hair hung limp around its shoulders just as it had done only two nights ago. Rawnie's mind yelled in a blood curdling scream to shoot it, shoot it! To not just stand there like an idiotic deer caught in a sudden bright light. That voice finally made it through when the creature let out a shriek and pushed itself through the fire and toward the two shaken travelers.

Shooting toward the things head, the gypsy watched as it tumbled to the side, giving them just enough room to get to their get away horses. Gripping Reds arm, Rawnie pulled him across the opening and kept her gun trained on the still kneeling creature that was currently gripping his head wound. With Red armed and ready, the two untied the horses and kicked at their sides sending them down the beaten path at a full out run. Behind them, a deafening roar could be heard followed by the destruction of their fire as the bat like thing took out his rage on it. Even from their running pace, they could still hear the beating of large wings as the vampire took to the skies in hot pursuit of his prey.

"What are are we going to do do, lady?" Red hollered over to her above the screams of the creature above.

"Just keep riding for that thicket!" she yelled back and pointed toward the block of heavy trees and thick brush. Turning in her saddle, Rawnie let loose a few more bullets into the flying beast. One flew wildly to the side, while the other slammed into his broad chest. A high pitched sound escaped the things dagger filled mouth and it took a dive through the trees down toward the riders.

Its wing span graced over the trunks of trees that surrounded the path, but that didn't stop his chase. Another two bullets entered his body, but they only proved to be slight speed bumps in the creatures flight. Damn it all, the townspeople had been all to right. Another shot, another, another…nothing seemed to faze him now. Emptying the chamber of the gun, Rawnie slipped it back into its holster before turning back around to face forward.

The thicket was so close now. Only a few more seconds and they would be in the secure fortress of thick trunk trees. At least she hoped so.

"Go single file, Red!" the woman ordered as they approached the small opening between the trees. The boy nodded and fell in front of his companions horse, and dove through the space followed very closely by both woman and monster. When both were safely through, a loud wail echoed through the forest as the creature made a heavy impact with the tightly packed trees. It clawed violently at the bark, almost desperate to get through, before its common sense took over and it took off up into the skies and over the small patch of trees.

"Now what what, lady?" Red asked slowly down a bit.

"Don't slow down! Keep running!"

"But, lady…" the red head faded off and pointed out in front of him. When the female noticed what he was getting at, she brought her horse to an abrupt stop.

"Oh no," she whispered with a blank look on her face. A clearing. A huge, open clearing. They would have no chance out there in the open. After all, the only reason they made it this far was the interference the trees caused on the vampires speed. He had the advantage, and judging by the circles he made in the sky, he knew it. The sounds that came from his throat teased and taunted like laughter. He was going to win.

"What what do we do, lady?" That was a very good question. Off in the distance, the two could barely make out the form of city buildings. Rome. It was so close, and yet so very far away.

"We have to make a run for it, Red," Rawnie answered when she finally came to a conclusion. "We have to split up and make a run for it."

"Split up up?"

"It can't go after both of us at that same time if we're going in different directions. One of us HAS to make it to Rome. Its just a matter of him picking which one," she explained and ignored Reds shaking head.

"No. No no," he disagreed.

"We have to, Red. There's no other way," the woman said and turned to him. "You do know how to find the Vatican don't you?" At first the little man only bowed his head, looking to the ground.

"Don't you?" she asked again with a stern voice. Finally, Red nodded. "Alright. The minute we get out there, you swerve to the left, and I'll go to the right. Okay?"

"Okay okay," he nodded again and prepared to ride. "You won't die die like pretty lady lady Anna, will you?" That question left Rawnie staring over at him with an unreadable look. Shaking her head she dug her heels into the ribs of her horse and gave the order.

"Ride, Red!"

Bursting out of the trees, the two immediately separated and for a while the beast only took chase in between them. Picking either one off would be so easy…just gliding to one side and they would be gone. The boy looked weaker…

"_Get the girl, Vladislaus! The girl_!" a voice screamed in his head, bringing a howl out of his own mouth. Leaning to the right, he descended upon the wanted girl. She was no longer wielding her pistol, but the sword dangling at her side could still serve as protection. Narrowing his wings, the vampire swooped low to the ground and barreled right into the side of Rawnie's horse.

Both animal and rider were thrown violently to the ground. The world swirled and gray framed the woman's vision as she tried to stand. In the distance she could hear Red yelling something, and closer she could hear wing beats. Where were they though? Everything was jostled in her mind and none of her senses would cooperate to her liking. Something thick ran down the side of her face and disappeared down her neck under the high collar of her jacket. Wiping some of it away, she brought her moist hand up in front of her face. What was it? What color was it? Its called blood right? Yeah…

"Lady!" Reds voice penetrated her thoughts and carried her back to semi-reality. In front of her she saw a large creature with wings. The teeth were sharp, the eyes were menacing, and the stance was hostile. Who was that? The vampire…oh, yeah. Behind the winged thing she could see Red riding up full speed with his arrow pointed straight at the beast.

In a split second she was suddenly off the ground and moving. That's not right…Her still groggy eyes looked around and noticed the large arm swung under her stomach, holding her in a tight grip. That shouldn't be there…Then there was the blur of a whizzing arrow and an earsplitting scream from behind her, and then the arm was gone and all that was left was the image of her falling to the ground. Falling to the ground? Wait, she was falling to the ground! What the hell was going on!

The grass of the clearing grew closer and closer until she could see the ants dwelling within, and then…nothing. Everything stopped. The falling stopped, the screaming stopped, and Reds cries stopped. Her breaths came quick and deep as she looked down at the ground that was barely an inch away from her head, so she knew she wasn't dead quite yet. Some of the blood that came from her head wound splattered down on the grass in small dark pools until she was then dropped rather roughly to the ground. Turning on her back, she looked up to gaze upon her rescuer.

The vampire. The creature had tried to carry her off and then saved her from a horrible death of crushed bones and other major injuries? Once more, what the hell was going on?

"_Pick her up, Vladislaus! Pick her up now_!" the words inside the beasts mind ordered. Looking down at the woman, he closed his cold, dark eyes tightly. "_Do it! I order you! Pick her up_!"

When the earth shaking sound erupted from his throat, Rawnie crawled backwards and a fast pace, her brown eyes never leaving the painful looking state of the vampire. His ranting and raving gave her enough time to scramble to her feet and break across the clearing. This running gave her time to think about that vampire. Two times he had come after her. Two times he gripped his head and let out a scream. Two times he had let her live. Why? Why didn't he take her and drain her of all her blood like vampires were suppose to do? That scenario probably would have been a lot easier to handle then this confusion.

"Lady, get on on!" Red shouted, suddenly riding up next to her. During the little episode of hers, Rawnie guessed that the idea of them splitting up no longer applied. She didn't want to be a hero and die while he lived. She wanted to live too, selfish or not. Pulling herself up on the horse behind the young man, she gripped onto him while they took off across the grass. There, not one hundred yards up, a tree line began. Someone was looking out for them. Tilting her head back, Rawnie glanced back at the writhing beast. The only problem was that the beast was no longer writhing, and no longer grounded.

"Red, go faster," she stated plainly and turned away from the up coming danger. Letting out a shaky sigh, the woman unsheathed her sword and waited until either they reached the trees or the worst happened. She expected pain, claw marks, be bitten. But not being gently plucked from the horse. No pain, nothing. Only that flying feeling again…but she didn't feel like flying. Swinging her blade back, she sliced into the creatures arm and was dropped to the ground. Luckily, the drop was only a matter of feet, but it still sent her rolling. Over the grass and through the trees she went, which just happened to be hiding a rather steep hill.

Sticks cut her, logs bruised her, and trees broke her as she tumbled down the embankment and to the bottom into a bed of leaves. Groaning, Rawnie rolled slowly onto her back. Off to the side, her sword had fallen mostly unharmed by the fall. Her condition on the other hand was a different story. Clothes were ripped, bones were aching, she had several deep cuts running down her arms that would prove to be good scars later on, and she could already feel the heat of a new bruise making itself known on the right side of her face. She had been thrown around more in the last fifteen minutes then she had ever been in her whole life.

"Lady? Lady, where are are you?" Red called from far off. Once again for the second time that evening, Rawnie's vision blurred at the edges as the adrenaline running through he body finally ran out and she felt the effects of her beating.

"Over here, I'm over here!" her voice called out. But wait…she didn't speak. That was her voice but…she didn't say anything…Her thoughts started to become fuzzy as she thought this threw. She didn't yell out…then who…who did? She felt like lead weights had been tied onto her eyelids and were slowly pulling them down. Her hearing could still pick up Reds voice as he came closer and closer. Before she finally let her eyes fall closed, she made out a figure standing over her, with dark clothes and long…black…hair. And then the lights went out.


	5. Waking Up To A Bad Case of Denial

Hey there. I'm back with a new chapter, as you all can plainly see. Thanks to all that have been reviewing, I really appreciate it. Remember, those reviews are the things that keep me goin'! So…what are you still doing reading this junk? Get to reading! 

Chapter Five: Waking Up To A Bad Case of Denial

_It was dark. Shadows gripped every corner of the room to the extent that it was difficult to distinguish what shape the room itself was. There were no windows, no doors, no furniture; only the darkness. She was walking, but the only way she could tell that was the gentle taps of her feet as she moved across the floor. Nothing focused in her eyes, but in her ears a soft tone flowed through._

_The sound of a violin was something that was meant to sooth and calm. Even without seeing the image, she could visualize the bow gracing across the strings like a dance. Back and forth, back and forth. As her footsteps grew more rapid, the sound of the instrument followed along. The notes became higher and faster as she ran through the darkness, no destination in mind. Running, running, that's all her mind told her to do. The knowledge of if she was running from something or to someone was beyond her, but all she knew was that she had to run. Be friend or foe at the end of her line, she didn't care._

_A candle, she could see a candle in the darkness. A small melting thing that stood in the never-ending abyss like a ray of hope. Coming to a halt next to the wax figure, she ignored the painful screeching of the violin playing around her. The flame, she needed to touch the flame. It danced back and forth in its warm splendor tempting her with its curling smoke and blue core. Reaching a gloved finger out, she swiped it through the fire and drew it back unscathed. Raising the heated finger to her face, she jerked back when she noticed the small burnt spot on the tip grow and grow until the finger of her glove slowly began crumbling away like ash. Up her arm, over her shoulders, and down her body the disintegration of her clothing went until she could feel the heat of the candle against the bare flesh of her abdomen. Raising her hand up once again to her face, she felt panic rip through her when she found no hand to be seen. The pink skin that should have covered her entire being wasn't there._

_It was then that the horrible sound of the violin came back into play and she stumbled back with arms thrown over her head. Burning, she could feel herself burning! Dropping down to her knees with arms still over her head, the violin shrieked a horrible tune. It had to stop! She had to get it all to stop! Closing her eyes tightly, she let loose a raw throat scream that echoed over the instrument and through the room. And then…nothing. Except…for humming. She could hear humming._

_Raising her head timidly, she dug her nails into the cold floor beneath her when she spotted a figure in a chair in front of her. The figure had their back turned and the violin still was sitting inactive on her shoulder. Long dark hair ran in curly waves down the persons back and the long dark blue gown they wore curled around the feet below. Pushing herself off the floor, her eyes stayed put on the female figure as the smooth tone of the violin started up once again. Crawling toward the woman, she reached a hand out in an almost desperate fashion._

_"Mama?" her voice came out like that of a child. Like it was years back before she heard the screams and yells of arguments about her being sent away. The woman in the chair turned in her spot and stared down at the crouching girl with warm eyes. Her mother played with grace and compassion that brought a feeling of ease over her. Though that wasn't to last. The playing woman's fingers that held down the strings slowly began letting loose small trails of blood down the glossy wood of the instrument. Her kind eyes started to well over with the crimson liquid and spilt over her pale cheeks in small rivulets. Again, the violins music grew faster and more rapid as the blood poured down and pooled around her feet._

_The liquid started to become absorbed into her dress, running up its length and disappearing from the floor. Faster and faster the music went, and with every chord that was played, the face of her mother changed. High sculpted cheeks, evil glinted eyes, long straight darkened hair, and her dress changed into an off white tone while the redness of the blood shifted into a soft emerald green. The woman in front of her was no longer her mother, but another familiar face. This new figure slammed the violin to the ground and lunged at her with open jaws._

_"Stop!" she screamed and held her hands out to block the attack…but it never came. The lovely woman stopped in her actions and only ran a finger down the terrified girls neck and over her collarbone. The scar. She remembered the scar she received from years passed. It was always covered with a numb sensation, but now it stung and opened up to let flow a gush of blood…just like it did that day._

_Just like it did that day…_

_That day…_

_"My child!" the new woman's voice screamed in her face selfishly. "You are my child! Mine!"_

_"You belong to me!" another, now male, voice repeated as the straight haired woman morphed into a pale, handsome man. "YOU BELONG TO ME!"_

_"YOU BELONG TO ME!" a final voice cried as the form once again changed into a figure in dark robes. "YOU…YOU BOTH BELONG TO ME!"_

_With that the man that she saw before collapsed in a misty form in front of her while the dark clothed unknown continued the chant. Curling up into a ball and covering her ears, like the man had been forced to do, she wailed in agony. It hurt, it all hurt! Then she felt someone grab her hand. She was scared at first, shaken with fear, but when she saw it was only the spirit like man gripping onto her she held on tight. Turning her head and pressing to the ground so she would only need one hand to cover her ear, she watched as the man struggled to pull his head up._

_His black hair bunched around his neck when he finally managed to get her in his view. Screaming, the black robed person was still screaming hysterically at the point where it was deafening._

_"YOU'RE MINE! YOU BELONG TO ME, ME, ME!"_

_Then she caught the eyes of the man in front of her and…_

* * *

"NO!"

"Dear God!" a surprised male voice screamed out in response to Rawnie's sudden jolting up and he flailed backwards onto the hard floor with a hand clutched to his chest. From the other side of the room by a window, a larger man jerked his attention toward the small bed and to the woman who was frantically trying to take in her surroundings. Her hands moved around her waist in search of her usual weaponry, but came back empty handed. Shooting her wild eyes around the room, she caught sight of her effects in a chair nearby and dove for the pile. Before the long coat clad man could move to stop her, Rawnie had a firm grip on her pistol and was currently pointing it toward the little man still on the floor in front of her.

"V-Van Helsing…" he whispered with wide eyes, looking down the barrel of the gun. The wanted man stood to the side with his hand trailing of the holster of his own weapon, eyes narrowed at the woman who was looking back and forth between the two males with uncertain eyes. Where the hell was she? Waking up with two strange men in the room was not something she expected. Waking up to a bloodthirsty vampire, maybe, but not two men. Cocking her gun, Rawnie glared at the smaller man bringing another, louder call from him. "Van Helsing!"

Van Helsing…that name was so familiar.

"Lady!" the voice of Red echoed through the spacious room as he scampered through the door way and over the stone floor. Turning her eyes to him, Rawnie let out a sigh. Red. The chase. The vampire. Going unconscious. Now she remembered. But just because she remembered didn't mean that everyone in the room knew it. Taking advantage of her distraction, Van Helsing lunged for her and knocked the pistol out of her hand before pinning her arm behind her back. Grunting, the gypsy attempted to yank her arm out of his grasp, but to no avail. The young stable boy just stayed back with a worried expression on his face, while the other small male stood from the ground and tried to gather himself.

"You can let go now. I think the animal instincts have passed," the woman mumbled and blew some of the hair that fell in her face away.

"I don't think letting go of a person who lets out those instincts so easily is a wise thing to do. Sorry," the man responded and kept hold of her arm while shifting from one knee to the other.

"Tell you what, Mr. Van Helsing. You wake up from the dream I just had, ready for anything the world can throw at you, and then we'll talk," she whispered harshly. Silence passed through the chamber for a few moments before the man sighed and released her slowly. As they both stood from their crouching positions, Red and the other man reacted in different ways. Red skipped to the woman's side with a big grin on his freckled face. The hazel-eyed man on the other hand took a few steps back until he bumped into the wall.

"Sorry about that. I'm not accustom to waking up with an odd man hovering over me," Rawnie apologized while rolling her shoulder and looked to the still shaken man. He only gave a half sincere smile, a nod of his head, and a shrug of his shoulders. "How long have I been asleep?"

"This little guy hauled you in nearly two days ago," Van Helsing answered. "How he managed to get you up on a horse by himself is beyond me, but when you showed up you were relatively in one piece."

"I see," she smiled and ruffled Reds hair as he leaned against her, satisfied that he was able to please the woman. "Seeing it that you seem to be this Van Helsing character I've been hearing oh so much about lately, I take it that we're at the Vatican?"

"Of course," the brown haired man half smiled and gave a brief nod of his head. "And, this is Carl."

"Carl. Again…sorry about the," she started and made a gun signal with her finger and pointed toward him. The man nervously crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

"No need to be sorry. Seems to happen every few days around here, nothing to worry about," Carl babbled on and stumbled a bit over his feet as he leaned against the wall. Oh, this was a smooth one.

"Right. Well, I didn't come here to chat," she started, "I need help, well…we need help I guess I should say," Rawnie explained and turned her attention back to Van Helsing.

"That's what he said," the warrior pointed to Red. "Though I don't think we caught all the details. Perhaps you could elaborate."

"You'll have to give me some idea on what to elaborate on. What did you catch from Red?"

"That you need help," Van Helsing chuckled and made his way over to a large wardrobe. Shuffling through a few things, he started talking once more. "Other than that…judging by your accent your from France, Spain?"

"Well, my accent has become…flavored, over the years," she drawled out and watched the man search through the cabinets. "Yes, I grew up in France, but I ride from Transylvania."

At that word, Van Helsing's searching came to a sudden halt. With his head bent into the furniture it was hard to see the expression on his face, but Rawnie could guess what it was. Anger, sadness. Both would suit the story she heard from one of the women back in town. Her sister and Rome's warrior supposedly had a romance going before the Valerious was cut down by the cruelty of fate.

Standing to his full height, the man fumbled with a piece of cloth in his hand and stared blanking ahead. Carl stood rigid against the wall with downcast eyes and tightened shoulders. The whole room stank of sorrow. Beside her, Red shifted back and forth on his feet, staring up at her with a curious expression. Crossing her arms over her stomach with a bit of a wince, Rawnie inwardly cursed Van Helsing. Having ones arm twisted was just the thing for bringing back the pain of old wounds.

"Transylvania," the tall man finally said in a stern voice and turned his now emotionless eyes toward her. "What of it?"

"A…'thing' has made itself known since my arrival. A woman was carried off two days before we left for Rome. As far as I know, we'll probably have more to deal with when we return."

"Carried away you say?" Carl whispered hoarsely. "As in…up in the air?"

"Yes," the gypsy answered, but kept her eyes on Van Helsing. "A large flying beast. That creature is why I was brought here in my condition. Seems it holds me as a prime target."

Without shifting her gaze, Rawnie could tell that the smaller man was staring at his friend with widened eyes. This was the reaction she had been expecting. He was mulling it over, the thought that the creature could truly be him. She didn't blame the man for not accepting it easily. Though she hadn't seen the brunt of the war, she knew from common sense, Count Vladislaus Dragulia was not someone you wanted to go up against. Let alone twice.

All of the other three jumped slightly when Van Helsing slammed the wardrobe closed. Standing there with his hands still planted firmly on the doors of the cabinet and heavy breathing, everyone could see this was going to be harder then previously expected.

"A gargoyle," he mumbled then pushed himself from the doors and walked briskly across the room to stand in front of Rawnie. "It was probably just a gargoyle. Some tend to carry off weaker humans for prey when the opportunity is right."

"But…gargoyles aren't native to…" Carl started but stopped instantly when Van Helsing jerked his head back.

"Give us the day to pack and we'll be off," the slayer said in an even tone before brushing past the woman and exiting into the hallway. Staring at the still unclosed door behind her, Rawnie sneered and gave Red a small pat on the shoulder before jogging out the door. Catching a glimpse of Van Helsings trailing coat whipping around the corner, she sped up to a faster gate. Sliding around the sharp angle and into the main chamber of the Vatican, the Queen slowed down slightly when she noted the fact that Van Helsing had come to a halt not far from the altar.

"It wasn't a gargoyle," she stated plainly and came to a stop behind him.

"Yes it was. There's nothing else in record that could have carried off a woman like that," he retorted with a stale voice, keeping his back to the woman.

"I've lived in France most of my life, Van Helsing. I know what a gargoyle is and isn't. THAT was NOT a gargoyle."

"I've been fighting creatures like this as long as I can remember, so don't try to lecture me on my expertise, lady," Van Helsing snapped and turned around with an angry expression on his handsome face. Sensitive subject?

"I'm not lecturing, I'm simply trying to get you to see what you refuse to," Rawnie continued and got up in his face. Oh this relationship was off to a smashing start. "A vampire. Twice I was sought by a VAMPIRE, twice my life was in the hands of a VAMPIRE, and twice my life was spared by a VAMPIRE."

"All vampires died with the death of Dracula. The idea is impossible," he argued and waved a hand in a dismissive manner.

"I don't suppose this…lack of understanding would stem from the absence of Anna, would it?"

"You knew her?" the man questioned sharply.

"No," Rawnie said truthfully. "To be perfectly honest I didn't know of her or you until about a week ago."

"Who are you?" Van Helsing asked with a quirked brow. "You know my name, I should know yours."

"Rawnie. Valerious," she choked out with heavy blinking eyes and a bitter look on her face. "Rawnie Valerious."

"Valerious?" two voices questioned in unison. Carl shuffled into the room with his hands fidgeting in front of his chest, Red following behind. Both the men from Rome stared at Rawnie with surprised, and confused eyes.

"You're of the Valerious family?" Van Helsing asked and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Shaking his head he squinted his eyes in thought. "Anna was the last of them."

"Yes, every piece of information we hold about the family tells that there were only two children from the Gypsy King. Anna, and Velkan, no Rawnie anywhere," Carl went on. "I think I would recognize the name Rawnie, especially if it were a woman's name, but its not ringing any bells. Besides, Anna would have surely said something about a sister…"

"Unless she didn't know," the taller man stated in a voice just above a whisper, interrupting his friends chattering. Tilting his head up, Van Helsing looked down at the woman with careful eyes.

"Well, yes, that's a possibility, but how would she, or us for that matter, never learn of a missing sibling?"

"Believe me little…" she faded off and looked Carl up and down. "Friar. The situation doesn't look a whole lot different from the other end of the road."

"Well actually I'm a fri…oh, yes. That's right," he stammered and ended with a smile. Finally being recognized for what he was probably would put anyone in a good mood.

"You're truly Anna's sister?" Van Helsing asked and took another step toward Rawnie. She only looked back at him with unreadable eyes.

"As far as I know. Several sources have told me that she was my younger sibling, though I can't say that I had any first hand encounters with her."

This woman was Anna's sister? The hunter suppressed a wince at the thought of the curly haired gypsy. Her face was still fresh in his mind, and it wasn't that hard for him to imagine the two side by side. This Rawnie woman was taller, had paler hair, a stronger jaw, and an indifferent stare. A few minutes with her and Van Helsing could tell her and Anna probably wouldn't have gotten along if they had ever come face to face. Anna was passionate, caring, and unselfish. This woman was…none of those as far as he could tell. It seemed that she wanted to get this all done and over with without any mishaps. No little speeches about family honor, the lives of the townspeople, or saying she really didn't need his help at all. Though there was one thing that caught a corner in his mind as he looked down at the woman.

Her eyes. The gaze was stern, but her eyes were still those pools of chocolate he remembered looking into all those months past. Anna's eyes had always held a comforting layer of warmth even when she was irritated or in the heat of battle. But, even though Rawnie's eyes held the same shape and color of the former princess', she somehow managed to do something with them that Anna failed to do. She was able to make them stare out at him with icy venom.

"The last of the Valerious," Carl spoke up looking to Van Helsing. "A flying creature carrying off people. Her being followed and roughed up by the beast. Is it just my overactive imagination or is this all seeming far too familiar?"

"Start packing, Carl," the man ordered.

"Packing, packing for what? Gargoyles or…vampires? The regular heavy-duty guns, or the liters of holy water? Loaded pistols, or silver stakes? I need more of an angle here, Van Helsing," Carl said and gestured back and forth with his hands, his nervousness showing each time he mentioned something regarding the 'v' word.

Van Helsing glanced back at Rawnie from the corner of his eye and met with her cross armed figure. If he didn't say vampire she would go off. She knew what the thing was. Hell, he knew what it was. But him wanting to admit to that fact was another thing entirely. If he went there without being prepared, he would most likely fail in his mission, and failure was not something that Rawnie Valerious expected out of him. If he failed, who else would take the challenge of Dracula? He guessed that if push came to shove, the woman would take charge and fight if she had to, but at the moment…

"Vampires."

* * *

"It shouldn't be taking so long."

"You need to calm down, Charles. Sit, have some tea."

"They should be back by now. Something's wrong. We need to go and look for them."

"Nonsense. Rawnie's a big girl, she can take care of herself, dear," the elderly woman's voice reassured the pacing man in front of her.

"She's never ridden this far before on her own," Charlie shook his head and clasped his hands tightly behind his back.

"But she's not on her own," Seareinty smiled calmly. "She has that boy with her."

"A lot of help he could be!" the male exclaimed with sarcasm dripping from his words.

Plopping down on the worn couch next to the gray woman, Charlie sighed. He shouldn't have let Rawnie go off to Rome with that Red character. Though he highly doubted that the young woman would have let him go even if he had wanted to. However, he still couldn't help but worry about her safety with the stable boy. The reappearance of the old woman who brought comforting words was good for his nerves, but he kept counting the days the two had been gone in his head. Over a week they had been gone, nearly a week and a half! Too long, far too long for something not to have gone wrong.

Vaseriahad been relatively quiet during her absence, which was somewhat of a relief. The last thing Charlie needed was to have a vampire knocking at the door while the more…weapon handy woman was away. The townspeople were on the edge most of the time, even during the daytime hours. The man had watched them from the windows of the manor, he had milled around in the streets a bit, and had even chatted with a few of the men in the area. He found out that once they got past the 'you're a stranger and this is my pitchfork' stage, they were very nice people. In fact, Charlie had even help a few of the stores out with their money problems. He figured that if some of the things were taken care of when Rawnie got back, it would take some of the stress off of being the new Queen.

"Oh dear, I really must be going," the woman interrupted his thinking suddenly as she stood with a quickness that the man didn't know she had.

"Wouldn't you like to-"

"No, no, I must leave now. I have an important engagement I must not neglect. Do send for me when Rawnie arrives, won't you?" she questioned in a loud voice as she exited through the door with her entourage at hand and took off at a dust rising pace in the carriage. Charlie would have agreed to the request if he had known where to find the old woman at. Odd. Very odd.

Grumbling something inaudible to himself, the man hauled himself up from the seat and shuffled to the ajar door. The nerve of that woman, flying out of here without even closing the door behind.

"No respect for respectable people," Charlie whispered with a shake of his head and stepped out into the fresh air of the Transylvanian town. Drops of rain splattered on the ground every now and then from the overcast sky above, but nothing too dramatic. A slight breeze ruffled the already tousled hair on his head and caused him to narrow his eyes a bit. Oh his accursed dry eyes.

"Charlie man man!" an excited voice yelled out from down the street. Lazily tilting his head in the direction, the man's eyes widened once again when he saw Red bouncing happily on a trotting horse. He was here, but…where was Rawnie? He saw the little man, but no woman in sight. 'Don't panic' he kept telling himself over and over, 'don't panic, don't panic, she's alright, she's alright, don't panic'.

"Hey, Charlie."

"Rawnie!" the said man cried out, startled. Turning his attention back in Red's direction, the man took deep breaths in attempts to calm himself when he spotted the woman sitting on a still horse not five feet from him. The look on her face was that of entertainment as she stared down at her odd friend with a quirked brow.

"You alright down there, Charlie?"

"Oh, fine, fine. Why do you ask?" he spat out quickly and crossed his arms over his chest. Yep, same old Charlie.

"I just don't understand those people. We've been here before, you would think that they would have set up a bit more of a warm welcome. Its not that I don't enjoy being glared at by people I hardly know, but really Van Helsing, they could have a bit more gratitude," a mans voice rattled on from down the street as two more horses plodded up to the manor.

"Calm yourself, Carl. Do you blame them for being so stingy about outsiders?" another, deeper voice asked.

"Well, I suppose not…after all, I would be most--Oh, hello there."

The loaded down horses came to a stop near Rawnie as the talking ceased and attention was turned to the standing man. Staring up at them, Charlie guessed that the more masculine appearing one would be Van Helsing, while the other would be…

"Charlie, this is Van Helsing and Carl," the woman answered his mental question by pointed to each of the men with a gloved hand. Each of the men simply nodded to each other in response.

"Well, nice to meet the two of you. I'll wait inside while you all deal with your horses and such, then you can tell me what took so bloody long," Charlie huffed and turned before disappearing back through the doorway. Carl wasted no time in getting himself over to the stables where Red awaited the animals . Rawnie had discovered that the friar was as good of travel companion as the stable boy. The two left behind chuckled a bit at the slight mumblings of the young man and soon followed behind.

"So, this Charlie, he your…" Van Helsing started and motioned around with his hand.

"My what?"

"Your husband," the man finished and took the woman's left hand to examine for any signs of a ring. "If he is I have to admit, he really doesn't seem like your type, Ms. Valerious."

"No! God, why does everyone automatically think that Charlie and I are married?" Rawnie let out and jerked her hand out of Van Helsing's.

"Sorry," he winced with an amused grin. "Just thought I'd ask. Didn't want to seem like I was intruding on another mans territory."

"What's that suppose to mean?" she asked and turned her head toward him with a questioning look.

"Nothing," he answered after a few moments, gaining himself a loud and agitated sigh from the gypsy who quickly pulled her horse away from his, breaking the slight touch their legs had. Van Helsing only chuckled softly to himself and pushed his hat down further on his head.

Vaseriawas all that he remembered it as…except for lack of screeching brides diving at him from the skies. The small houses, the glaring townspeople, the mushy ground. But he couldn't overlook the absence of the princess he remembered. It was hard coming back knowing he wouldn't see her face again. Though he wanted to grieve, though he wanted to look back on the few days when he was in her presence, he knew he couldn't. Things had to be done, monsters killed, and people saved.

"Want me to to take your horse horse, monster man?" a voice asked as he drew nearer to the stables. Climbing down of the bay stallion Van Helsing smiled and tossed the reigns to the red headed boy.

"Go for it, Red."

The group then began unpacking. Bags of things to fend against vampires lined the ground as well as numerous piles of blankets and food that were left over from the ride. Eventually, Charlie came back out to assist with the baggage, but he seemed to be more trouble then help, so he mostly ended up standing by and chatting it up with Carl. Rawnie had a sickening feeling that those two would get along. She nearly cursed the friendship when she saw it blooming. The last thing the world needed was another Charlie running about.

"Nice to see its quiet around here," Van Helsing commented as he slung a bag over his shoulder.

"Yes, it's-"

Rawnie didn't have enough time to finish her response. Over the village, the echo of screams sounded and swooped down into the newly arrived traveler's ears. Things like 'get the children inside', 'stay down', and 'curse you vampire' were heard loud and clear. Tilting her head back toward the monster hunter who now had a grim look on his face, the woman gave an annoyed glare while speaking in a bland voice.

"You just had to say something, didn't you?"

* * *

There ya go. Hope you enjoyed, now…REVIEW!


	6. In the Claws of Memories

Yes, I've finally updated. Woo hoo. Alright, I've realized I made a mistake in this story and I've fixed it. I called the village in Transylvania Budapest, but as I found out it was called Vaseria in the movie. So, excuse me for the error, and if this is wrong, excuse me again. 

Chapter Six: In the Claws of Memories

Rawnie soon found out why the people of Vaseria found comfort in Van Helsing being around. The man was handy with any weapon that found its way into his hands. He was a dead eye with pistols and other guns, tricky with blades, and well skilled at the so called 'Tojo blades' he pulled out of his weaponry. Next to him, the woman looked like an amateur, which she didn't necessarily like. But, if the job was being done, then she could live with being shadowed over for a time. The thing was, that the job wasn't actually being done.

If the flying creature that was currently terrorizing the village was anything but a vampire, it would have been long dead. Daggers stuck out of its chest, bullets embedded themselves into his skin, and holy water drenched his hair, but he made no sign of slowing down. Dipping through the sky, the vampire raked his claws through the air with deadly intents. More than once he had grazed the talons over Van Helsing, but the gripping hand was all for Rawnie. Again and again, the beast tried to grab hold of the woman as she sprinted into various hiding places. Some would think her a coward, but she knew her limits and that thing was one of them.

"I take it you're not too keen on this situation either?" she asked the crouching friar as she joined his hiding place behind a cart. The little man shook his head rapidly.

"Oh no, no, no. I've told him time after time, I'm not a field man, but he always insists that I-" Carl started but cut himself off when a wild flying arrow shot into the wood of the cart next to him. Rawnie took a peek over to gaze at the battle ground and shook her head with a thoughtful gleam in her eyes.

"This is getting ridiculous," she mumbled and watched as Van Helsing continually shot arrows into the flying creature. All of the ammunition being wasted, and it wasn't getting them anywhere. Someone had to pull the plug on this pathetic operation.

"Van Helsing!"

"I'm a little busy at the moment!" he responded to the woman's yell from behind.

"I don't think this is working!"

"Do you have," another shot fired. "a better plan?"

"Well…" she stopped and thought for a minute. "Not really, but this is a waste of time!"

"Sorry to disappoint you Ms. Valerious, but this isn't one of those things I can call off and reschedule for later!" Van Helsing called back before the vampire swooped and backhanded the warrior into a nearby building. Both people behind the cart winced at the impact, but their expressions quickly changed as the creatures eyes settled on them. Then more specifically, Rawnie.

"Carl, run for the house," she whispered calmly while the now landed vampire lumbered toward her. The friar didn't need to be told twice and was making a beeline to the manor before she barely finished the sentence. In the back of her mind she was screaming, 'What are you doing? Follow your own advice why don't you?'

The plated pistol in her hand wouldn't do her much good if the worse happened, but it was better than going down just standing there. Slowly the vampire made its way across the space, inch by inch closing the distance between them. Off to the side, Rawnie could make out the groaning figure of Van Helsing as he recovered from the hit and pulled himself up from the ground. But by the time the warrior from Rome had found his balance, the creature was already towering over the Valerious woman.

"God in Heaven," she whispered and swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Her feet finally kicked in and she slowly began to back away from the creature that was staring at her with humor glazing its deadly gaze. The weapons that she usually carried on her person were seeming incredibly heavy and useless at the moment when she needed to run as fast as she could manage. Run, she needed to run. But…she couldn't. Was it the vampire rolling her mind? Was she scared beyond all possible belief? Or was she simply having a stupid moment when all gears in a persons head shuts off. Either way, she couldn't move from the beast's path, and it looked like he wasn't planning on taking another.

"Rawnie, get down!" a voice broke her stare with the monster, and a rain of holy water drenched bullets rammed into the back of the vampire. The thing stumbled slightly, but recovered just as quickly. Sending a hiss Van Helsings way, it then turned its attention back on Rawnie to find her hightailing it toward the manor. At least this woman knew how to listen.

Dust rose up from the ground as the vampire took to the air in hot pursuit of the Valerious. Women and children screamed from inside the houses on either side, but he paid them no mind. The girl, get the girl, the girl. He had been hearing that in his head so much lately he was beginning to think it on his own. She was close, so very close. Vladislaus could almost reach out and touch the short locks of her choppy hair as she ran for dear life. Just one more beat of the wings and…

The vampire suddenly met face first with yet another banquet of arrows. Van Helsing. The name still tasted sour in his mouth. The thin objects slowed him down momentarily, but only that much. Powering through the rain of weapons, he drove on, gaining more ground on the woman. Van Helsings yell of advice shot forward to Rawnie, but she could only hear the beat of her heart, and the beat of the creatures wings from behind. It was fascinating, in an odd sort of way, how the two beats were nearly in unison with one another. When she sped her run up, her heart would beat faster. When she sped up, the vampire in turn would also sped up, beating his wings quicker. Hypnotizing was almost a word that could describe it. Like music, it reminded her of music. A twisted symphony.

A violin. Suddenly she could hear a violin. The music of the beats matched in perfectly with the violin from her dream that had made a home in the back of her subconscious. Her running brought her back to the feeling of being lost in that darkness. The screeching of that music rang through her ears like a knife on a chalkboard and the neighborhood around her melted into that inky black. Everything was gone. The quaint little homes were nothing but shadows, the people running around in terror dissolved into black, and Van Helsings screams faded away completely. It was only her…her and that beast.

Rawnie didn't need to turn her head to know that he was still following her through the darkness, the sound of his wings were still all to noticeable to her as the sound wound its way through the terrible music in her head. Her feet pounded mercilessly on the ground as she ran, unknowing where she was headed. She kept thinking that if she just ran straight, she would eventually make it to the safety of the manor and this whole illusion would dissipate. However, as she continued on, she was neither caught by the vampire or saved by the huge door of her new home.

Darkness.

Just darkness was all the greeted her eyes as she twisted her head around in a panicked manner. Behind her, the creature growled and grunted as he flew, clawed hands outstretched, prepared to snatch her if she suddenly slowed her pace. Knowing that one small trip or fault of foot could lead to tragedy was an uncomfortable feeling…and strangely, also a very familiar one. The feeling of running away from such a creature was something that was locked away in her memories. Hearing the beat of the large wings, feeling the claws graze over her neck when she slowed even the tiniest fraction, and sprinting through the darkness aimlessly.

Looking down to her swiftly moving feet, Rawnie's eyes widened in realization. Instead of seeing the boots she was so accustom to wearing, she saw the tiny bare feet of a child. Her legs were now bare up to her knees and held no sign of the scarring she had acquired through the years. A little cotton dress flapped back and forth as she ran, her small hands balled into fists as her arms moved with her body. Instead of the short messed hair of the present, she was now baring shoulder length blond curls. A child? Was she…was she a child? A small whimper that escaped her mouth in a child like tone answered her question.

Was this just another horrible nightmare? An all too real unearthly screech answered that question as well.

She swung her head around, looking over her shoulder with rounder, bluer eyes. In an instant she realized she was still being pursued, though this time it was by a different beast. Yet again…it was familiar. It didn't hold the dark skin of the larger and obviously male vampire. Stark white flesh showed brightly against the black background, and made the dangerous being seem even closer then she already was. Long black hair streaked out from the head of the vampire as it pumped its wings furiously, gaining ground at an astonishing rate. Her now smaller legs slowed the Valerious woman down substantially, and they brought her right into the outstretched arms of the vampire woman.

Familiar. Everything was familiar. The look on the monsters face, the dark surroundings, and the feeling of helplessness where all running through her mind as she knew they had before. Was this all real? No…no, she couldn't be a child. She was a grown woman at the age of 28, not a child at the age of six. Six years old. As her little feet struggled against the harsh Transylvanian ground, Rawnie reached over with a shaking hand to pull back the collar of the right side of her dress. Before she glanced down, she could feel the lack of scar tissue on her soft flesh. Smooth and flawless, just like it was all those years ago. Before that night. That night in the woods. She could hear her father screaming in the distance, hoping against hope that he would catch up and save his daughter from the bride.

The bride.

Tossing her head back to the side, she caught another glimpse of the hissing creature tailing close behind. The bride. The darkness. A memory…was this all her memory? Was she loosing her mind to this confusion of returning to her childhood home? In the back of her mind, she cried out for someone to wake her up, stop her, let her clearly see what exactly she was running towards. But no matter how hard she tried to shake off the memory, she only saw blackness.

Suddenly, her feet twisted over each other. She stumbled roughly and collided with the ground, tearing away at her sensitive knees. Her small hands were planted spread on the dirt in front of her, mud caking her fingernails. She was going to be captured. Whether the male or female, one of the vampires would finally be able to wrap their claws around her. However, instead of the burning stab of talons in her back, she only felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her little child's face was red with heat, and glossy with tears by the time she finally raised her head to look upon the owner of the gentle hand.

"My poor child," the dark haired woman spoke in a velvety voice that would calm any raging beast. A caring smile was spread across her lovely face, and her eyes were warm with delight. Jerking her head over, Rawnie looked back over her shoulder in search of the gruesome vampire that was previously perusing her so ferociously.

"D-Do you know where my mama is?" the child asked hesitantly, raising one dirty hand from the ground to wipe away a freely running tear.

"Oh, shh, shh, shh," she replied and lifted one graceful hand to clean away the little girls face, gently pushing away the small balled up fist. "All will be well, my dear."

With that said, the seemingly kind woman scooped the girl into her arms as she slowly stood to her full height. Her long sheer garments pooled around her feet as he body swayed back and forth rhythmically, rocking the child soothingly. Rawnie's eyes blinked heavily as the woman placed her chin atop her head and began humming some unknown song. She wanted to stay with this woman forever. To stay in this warm, cozy embrace was something that she suddenly longed for. Being with this strange woman forever and ever seemed entirely doable at the moment for the child. This woman…she wanted this woman to be her mother. To be her mother for all eternity. Just the two of them, that's all she would ever need…

"Rawnie!" a strong male voice suddenly rang out in the distance. She rose her head to search for the source, but the beautiful woman simply pushed her head back down and continued humming. Again the voice sounded, closer this time. Soon, it was accompanied by other frantic voices. They all screamed out her name at the top of their lungs until the darkness echoed violently.

"Father?" Rawnie mumbled into the woman's shoulder and once again tilted her head up, only to have it be forced back down. This action was beginning to concern the child. Again, she pulled her head up, and again, it was forced back in place. She twisted in the woman's arms only to be held tighter. She pushed against her arms lightly, but the dark haired beauty wouldn't budge. As each moment passed in the woman's clinging arms, the girl became more and more anxious to escape them. Rawnie may have been just a child, but she knew when something was left of center.

"Rawnie! Are you out there?" another shout from the far off man echoed loudly.

"Father!" she screamed, pushing herself away form the woman's body momentarily.

"Hush, child," the voice of the lady mumbled as she again pulled the girl back in her tight grasp. It was then that Rawnie took note of how the woman was slowly inching backwards, one small step at a time.

"Through here!" a new voice called out over the trees, closer this time. Several fast paced footsteps and yells came from the same general direction, as the townspeople searched desperately for the missing girl. Then, a female voice rang out, loud and clear.

"Where are you, Rawnie?"

"Mama?" the Valerious child whined and squirmed anxiously in the arms of the strange woman. "Let me go. Its my mama, you can let me go now."

"She's not your mother anymore, my dear. All you need is me…just me," As she went along, the lovely and harmonious voice twisted and switched violently into a venomous hiss. The arms that were still tightly wrapped around the child's small body seemed to melt seamlessly from its original creamy complexion to a pale powder color. Muscles twitched and grew under the light flesh, and the long fluid garments morphed into strong, leathery wings. The bright blue gaze of the child looked up shakily at the once gorgeous face, only to be met with dangerous toned eyes and the jagged points of elongated teeth.

"Verona!" the Gypsy King yelled out before a sword was hurled the vampire's way, and embedded itself in her back. A loud shriek tore from the brides throat as the immediately took to the sky, the young girl still in her possession. With Rawie held tightly in one arm, Verona swung her arm back in attempt to pull the irritating blade from her back, but to no avail. This little predicament brought a growl from the vampires lips as she stared down at the gathering group of people below.

"Father! Mama!" the girl screamed out, tears once again pouring down her reddening face. She stretched her arms out toward her now crying mother, begging to be rescued from this horrible creature.

"Rawnie!" her mother responded, though her voice was also blended with another, deeper voice.

"Rawnie!" The deep voice was beginning to sound more prominent.

"Rawnie, snap out of it!" A mans voice? "Can you hear me, Rawnie?"

"V-Van Helsing?" Her own voice suddenly shifted itself, forming back into the grown woman tone that she was used to. The sight of her mother and father with the group of people below her flowed away like softly dropping rain on glass. The were quickly replaced by the image of the warrior from Rome and several other males scattered about on the ground. Her arms were no longer that of a small child, they were long, lean, and covered in her darkly colored clothing.

What had just happened? She probably would have asked the question aloud, but the fact that she was up in the air held her back. The village was spread out underneath her, people scurrying back and forth between buildings, trying to avoid the creatures sight. The creature. Ever so slowly, she tilted her head further down towards the pressure that was still around her midsection. The muscular discolored arm wrapped around her was what she expected to see, but was hoping that her expectations were wrong for once. An ear splitting screech sent her cringing as the vampire unleashed his rage down toward the ones below. With the sharp barbs of Van Helsing's grapple firmly planted into the creatures skin, and the tough cable wrapped tightly around his leg, he was forced to beat his wings furiously in attempts to break free of the three men's hold on the gun.

The punch came as a surprise to everyone on and above ground. Almost instantly the thrashing and yelling of both parties came to a halt, and all stared with wide eyes. The impact of fist on face vibrated the receivers head, as well as the senders arm and shoulder. It was an odd thing to see, and almost a little entertaining. With his head turned to the side, sharp eyes wide, and sharp toothed mouth ajar, the great and powerful vampire was completely taken off guard. Rawnie's hand was still balled into a tight fist and pulled back toward her body, her own eyes gaping in shock of her sudden actions. Meanwhile, Van Helsing was looking on with a quirked eyebrow and slight smile. After all, it wasn't every day a person saw a woman hit a vampire of such power. Charlie was nearly going into a fit of worry for his troubled friend. Punching a creature like this while she was at his mercy was not one of the smartest things to have done. Carl only stared up, face slack.

"Pull!" Van Helsing shouted out after the moment had faded and he saw the moment of opportunity. The two smaller men hesitated only briefly before tugging the grapping gun with everything they had. Their feet slid roughly against the dirt below them, bringing them to their backs, but their embarrassment paid off. The winged beast was yanked down sharply, sending Rawnie slipping from his grasp. Her ragged scream followed her as she fell heavily to the hard ground below. The muddy dirt did little to cushion the landing when she collided with the earth. Splatters of mud went in all directions as the gypsy grunted loudly from the force on her body.

"Rawnie!" Charlie screamed and started to sprint towards his fallen friend. However, Van Helsing grabbed onto his shoulder and hauled him back before he could take a step.

"Stay back! I don't need two of you dead," the fighter ordered, earning a healthy glare from the younger man.

A low growl brought everyone's attention back to the overcast skies. The grapple dropped to the ground with a sloppy sound, signaling the freedom of the vampire. As he stared down at the group and the woman's still unmoving body, Dracula's mind churned. In pure stubbornness he would have preferred to leave the Valerious just to spite his…master. But his inborn lust for death was pushing him on. It was odd, in his days before his entrapment, he would have slain the lot of them without a second thought. Was it the fact that he was being forced into this battle that was holding him back, or was it something else? Was this little bit of humanity that was brought back to him with his return to the human word having this much of an effect on his mind? Nevertheless, he needed to get that woman, if only to see his old rivals face.

Diving down at an extreme angle, Dracula stretched his claws out toward the gypsy Queen. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Van Helsing running across the square, shotgun aimed. The vampire lord almost let out a chuckle. Even if he shot the weapon, he would never get to the woman in time. She was all his.

"_No, Vladislaus_!" the familiar voice shrieked in his head just as he was about to rip the woman from the ground. Coming to an abrupt halt, he clenched his teeth at the new order. Would she just make up her bloody mind!

"_Fly back to the castle, leave the girl. I wish to learn more about this, Van Helsing before we carry out the plans. Besides_," the voice continued, "_we need to be certain this woman is all she seems. What better way to do that then to see her in action in the face of danger_?"

A snarl rose from Dracula's throat. This was ludicrous. She was simply being too confident in this little plan of hers. Not that he wouldn't enjoy seeing her fail, but he had no need to go down with her. And at this rate, that's exactly what would happen. Shaking his head, he turned quickly and took off over Vaseria and toward Castle Frankenstein. This confidence would prove to be the end of her, if not both of them. He knew better then to underestimate the Valerious family, stranger or no, and now that Gabriel was back in the picture…things would prove to be harder then previously anticipated.

"Rawnie!" Charlie repeated once he took note of the vampire taking his leave. The mud grabbed at his feet as he ran across the stretch of street towards the inert body of the woman. Skidding messily to a stop followed closely by Van Helsing and the clumsy Carl, the man dropped to his knees and rolled the filthy body of the gypsy over.

"Wake up, Rawnie!" the male from Rome said in a stern voice and lightly slapped her cheek with the palm of his gloved hand. The friar hovered over his companions shoulder, a worried expression plastered on his still frightened features, every one and then glancing up to the skies in search of the oddly disappeared beast.

"Come on now, Rawnie, open your eyes," Charles mumbled and grabbed her shoulders gently while shaking. Her head rolled slightly to the side giving the frightening look of death, but the shallow breaths slipping from her lips told otherwise.

"Is she alright?" Carl finally asked timidly, joining the other two on the ground.

"I think so. She probably just fainted," Van Helsing explained before he jerked his head toward Charlie when the smaller man broke out.

"Rawnie doesn't faint."

"Then I don't know what else to tell you, Charlie."

Said man only shook his head briefly before hauling the woman up slowly by her loose sleeves. Something happened up there while she was in the arms of that…thing. She was staring down at them…but then again, she wasn't. She didn't seem to be there at all. In those few minutes, Rawnie was off in a place completely different then this brown monochromatic village. Letting her head rest against the warrior from Rome, the small town man raised two fingers to her slack neck in search of any kind of pulse to guarantee she was still clinging to life. Fortunately, steady beats met his finger tips as they grazed under the right side of her shirt collar. However, the rhythm of blood pumping through her neck wasn't the only thing that earned his attention. He could feel heat gathering along two hardly noticeable bumpy lines trailing down her flesh. His fingers tapped lightly along area in search of the same heat, but found none.

Curiosity eventually proved to be too much for him after a few moments. Situating himself closer to the woman, Charlie carefully pulled back the stiff material of her jacket to reveal the pale skin of the crook of her neck. Judging by the sudden interest the newcomers were showing toward this little discovery, the poor man wasn't the only one who found this odd. Two long scars ripped jaggedly down her neck and over her collar bone where it tore viciously tighter forming a large lump of never fading scar tissue.

"What in the world…" Charlie whispered with narrowed eyes. Van Helsing's fingers soon swept over the scars just as his had earlier, the same confused expression coming over his face. The scars were warm. Scars of this age and magnitude weren't suppose to hold warmth such as this. They were suppose to be dead, but by the look of it, the mess of scars seemed to be forcing life back into themselves. By this time, the leather clad man had removed his glove and brushed his finger tips over the stretch of the two exaggerated lines.

"They look like claw marks, possibly," Carl hypothesized, "Or maybe even-"

"Fangs," his friend cut him off, his tone firm and thoughtful. That one word echoed throughout each of the males head as they stared down at the woman, who remained unmoving. The marks did resemble something that a pair of fangs could make, but were they truly? If so, this would explain why this vampire held such interest in the woman. Though, she wasn't a vampire. She walked in daylight, had no lust for blood, and had no oversized canines. It was all confusing…however, the three didn't have that much time to think these things through thoroughly. Before any of them could prepare themselves, Rawnie snatched violently onto Van Helsing's wrist and bent it in ways that hands weren't suppose to be bent. Charlie yelled, Van Helsing grunted, and Carl jumped. This woman was not someone you would want to wake up with in the morning.

"Its alright, its alright. It's us," the long haired man calmed in a soft voice, trying to easy her down with his free hand. Charles had once again grabbed onto the gypsy's shoulders, trying to pry her off of the currently paining man. Instead, she quickly jerked away from both of them and stood up, mud dripping wetly from her clothing. Her cloudy eyes scanned overhead for a moment, before falling back toward ground level toward the castle that jutted out of the trees in the distance. Without even giving the men a glance, Rawnie stared at Castle Frankenstein with an unreadable expression and spoke in a stale voice.

"Where is he?"

* * *

"Of course you do realize this is most likely a trap, don't you?"

"Of course, Carl."

"And you know we've been in this predicament before and it didn't turn out so well, don't you?"

"Yes, Carl.?"

"This could be-"

"Yes, Carl, we know!" Rawnie finally shouted at the friar who sat uneasily upon his horse next to Van Helsing. The middle man only chuckled and stared up ahead toward the castle as it grew closer and closer.

"Well good, but you don't have to be so rude about it," he mumbled at nudged the bay stallion with his heels softly. The woman rolled her eyes. She couldn't figure out why Mr. Helsing intended on dragging that little man everywhere they went. He couldn't fight, he could hardly keep up with running, and his nervousness would attract even the most mellow of carnivores. This little expedition to the crumbling castle was not something that would keep his nerves in line…or hers at that. Ever since she had fallen to the ground, she couldn't shake the anxiety that constantly crawled its way up her spine. Those memories that unexplainably took the place of reality shook her to the core, and judging by Van Helsings studying eyes, he knew something was out of place as well.

"Everything alright, Ms. Valerious?" his deep voice asked over the crunching leafs on the path below.

"Rawnie, Van Helsing, Rawnie. And, yes, I'm fine. Just fine…" she stretched out the last to words almost in a sarcastic nature before pulling the cold metal container of the familiar amber liquid out from her saddle bag and raising it to her lips. She could feel the two men beside her, as well as Red from behind, glance toward her general area in curiosity. Van Helsings eyes told that he was mostly going to remain silent about the alcohol matter for now. Carl's and Red's eyes were a bit nervous as they watched the woman down the substance. Charlie was the only one in the small group that choose to ignore the sight. He had spent years seeing her drink more then her share of rum, gin, and vodka, and this moment was no different.

"So…do we have any sort of plan as to what we're going to do once we get in there, or is it all opportunity and chance this time around?" the woman mumbled her question as she pulled the liquor from her mouth and settled casually back into the worn saddle.

"We're just going take a look around in there for now. You've already had the life knocked out of you once, we don't need to dig your grave any deeper," Van Helsing answered shaking his head slightly.

"Oh, no, God forbid I hold you back," Rawnie responded with sarcasm coating her words, and her eyes rolling. "If we're only going to poke around a bit, what's the point in going? If we come across something that needs killing we can't just, as you so poetically put it, it won't be one of those things we can call off and reschedule for later."

"I just want to find out exactly what we're dealing with."

"What? That back there wasn't enough for you?" she argued and tossed her hand back in the direction of the village. "How closer of a look do you need?"

Van Helsing stayed silent. How much closer did he need to get to wipe away his denial? He had seen the vampire up close and personal not an hour ago, and yet he still gripped onto the fantasy that it wasn't who he dreaded it to be. His mind still clung to the fact that he himself had killed that monster; there was no way he could be the thing terrorizing Vaseria. No matter how coincidental it was, it couldn't be the same…or so he liked to think. The dangerous thing about this matter was that Van Helsing was putting the village in danger while he hesitated in the facts. But the issue with the vampire was not all that the warrior from Rome was distracted about.

Anna. She wasn't here. Instead, her older more rough edged sister was in her place. Anna wouldn't have been drinking before they entered the dwellings of a vampire. Anna wouldn't have faulted when she was in the arms of a vampire. Anna wouldn't have done a lot of things that this woman did without a second thought. The two were as different as Carl and himself and judging by the way his friend had been acting, he noticed the large difference as well.

"Am I the only one here that finds this far to familiar for comfort?" Carl's voice suddenly asked, mostly directed toward Van Helsing.

"Not at all, Carl," the leather clad hunter chuckled and rolled his shoulders forward with a sigh. Suddenly, a deafening sound rose up from the castle and ran through the trees, shaking dieing leafs from the thin branches. The roaring scream sent the horses into a panic, and Rawnie's in particular rearing up into the air. She flung her arms around, desperate to grab back onto the reigns, dropping her drink in the process. However, her hands weren't quick enough, and the animal sent her falling to the ground for the second time that day, and took off through the forest. As the horse disappeared the mysterious cry faded away as quickly as it had appeared.

"What the Hell?" the gypsy grumbled hoarsely as she pulled herself slowly up into a sitting position. Van Helsing was slipping off his horse and down to the ground at her aid in no time, leaving Carl and Charlie to look ahead toward the castle with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Red on the other hand, was peering through the woods, looking for any trace of the cowardly horse.

"You alright?" Helsing asked as he carefully helped the tossed woman stand. A wince and a nod was all he got as an answer. He didn't know how she avoided broken bones as much as she was thrown about. Bending down with an unsteady back, Rawnie scooped up her faithful container of alcohol and raised it to her lips as she slowly stood back up. A grim look spread over her face and she pulled the bottle back, narrowing her eyes. The words she spoke next made Van Helsing drop his hands from his shoulders with another small laugh when she realized the absence of liquid.

"Alright…now this is serious."

* * *

There you go. Now, go and REVIEW!


	7. The Hatred of Crusty Bags and the Clash ...

**I'm back, read, and deal with it.**

Chapter Seven: The Hatred of Crusty Bags and the Clash of the Titans

"This is disgusting," Rawnie's voice reverberated through the spacious area that served as the entry hall for Castle Frankenstein. A smell that could not be categorized wafted through the already stale air and came up to nip mercilessly on the noses of the small group of people. Cobwebs gripped at every corner and piece of furniture there were to be found, leaving the more tidy ones of the party shuffling carefully around the dusty objects. The floor was covered with something that one would presume to be possibly large piles of rotten, crusty, intestines. Van Helsing was quick to assure that it was not that case. However, that note made the woman think over the other substances it could be and when she came up empty handed, she thought it best to leave it a mystery.

If possible, things were made worse as they ventured further into the expansion of hall. Large, dry, sack like things hung from the ceilings, chandeliers, and protruding stops of wall. Again, the man from Rome said that they were not quite organs or anything of the sort, but merely gave a small chuckle when Charlie was so bold as to ask the true name of the…things. Rawnie was forced to quiet him down when he raised his voice to the man, sending flakes of the bags drifting down from their high perches. After that the well to do man kept relatively quiet to avoid the chunks of the crusty material to fall on him, or worse yet, Rawnie. He would hate to be the one that caused her already mud matted head to be covered in the unidentifiable crust. That would not end up to be good for his health.

"I assume you know your way around here," the woman of the group asked while raising a single brow and pushing her way passed a rather grabby clump of spider webs. The monster hunter in front of her chuckled again and shrugged his wide shoulders.

"More or less. Enough to get us back out in a hurry if the time comes around."

"Not that I'm doubting your skills as a guide, Mr. Van Helsing, but-" Charlie started but was cut off when Rawnie shot her head over her shoulder and sent him a warning look.

"Don't go insulting the only man that can get us back out of here, Charlie. I have no desire for him to strand us here."

"Oh, now, Ms. Valerious, Van Helsing would never do such a thing," Carl chipped in and shook his head a few times, moving up the line to shuffle on beside the woman.

"Carl?" Rawnie asked, keeping her eyes staring in front of her.

"Yes?"

"If I told Van Helsing to call me by my first name, what do you think makes you any different?"

"The fact that I'm smaller than you and find the need to give you a title that says you're higher up on the food chain than I am?" the friar explained and looked up at her like it was common knowledge. In response the man up front let out a hearty laugh and the one behind put a hand to him mouth to stifle his own laughter. The gypsy only stopped walking and stared at the little man who had come to a halt as well. He gave a small shrug and looked back and forth between the other three. "Well it's true."

"Oh, Carl," Rawnie smiled and threw an arm around the holy mans shoulders before starting her steady pace again, "Keep talking like that and I'll be forced to pull you aside and have my way with you."

"You keep talking like that and he may let you," Van Helsing commented and smirked when he glanced back at the blushing Carl who held the smallest glimmer of a smile on his features.

"So good to see that the hormonal needs to today's youth is healthy," a voice hissed through the aged castle bringing the moving party to another stop. Rawnie dropped her arm from the friar and her hand darted for her holstered pistols as did Van Helsing. The voice clicked its tongue in disapproval and the fighters searched the room for any sign of life.

"That's not…"

"No. No, that's not him," the armed man shook his head at the Queens question and spun around slowly, scanning the area.

"I'm afraid you just missed him," again, the voice spoke out at their words, "He's resting. The poor thing has had a trying day."

"Van Helsing!" Charlie whispered harshly and jabbed his pointed finger up toward the crumbling balcony that over looked the hall. A figure stood, hands resting on the stone rail and hidden face tilted down toward the group. Immediately, both Van Helsing and Rawnie adjusted their weapons toward the persons general direction and stared down the barrels of the guns with questioning eyes. Meanwhile, Carl and Charlie moved off to the side so they were safely out of the villains sights.

"Is this castle the summer home for all dark beings, or is Vaseria just lucky?" the man commented and tilted his head up so the hat that was topping his head was pushed out of his line of vision.

"Such a talker. We shall have to see if you are worth the warning my pet gave me concerning you, Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" Rawnie whispered and rolled her eyes over toward the warrior who clenched his square jaw at the mention of the supposed out of place name. Unfortunately, the Valerious' words brought the figures attention on her, causing her to tighten her grip on the pistol.

"Rawnie Valerious," the unknown seemed to let out a satisfied sigh with her words, "So glad to see you're still relatively in one piece."

"Who the hell are you?" said woman said what nearly everyone in the room was thinking.

"I have no name, no true name. All that matters is that you are here, Rawnie Valerious. Only you, Rawnie Valerious." the being repeated the other females name as if it were a great relief to do so. Rawnie simply stared up at the shadowy figure with narrow, suspicious eyes that had questions rolling behind them. Though eyes were not visible under the darkness of the hood that was pulled securely over the persons head, there was a level of intensity that told she was staring back with just as much thought.

"You know us, I feel like we should know you," Van Helsing interrupted the stare with his loud voice. When the figure didn't shift toward him, he glared down the sight of his shotgun. The last thing he needed was the villains attention on the already half dead Valerious.

"Patience, Gabriel. I intend to-"

The seemingly disembodied voice was cut off and formed a painful yelp when Rawnie's pistol fired and embedded a bullet in the cloth covered chest of the unknown. With one hand gripping the railing tightly and the other going to the bullet wound, the being crouched down out of view, leaving Van Helsing to look almost accusingly over at his companion. The Valerious' chestnut eyes narrowed angrily as she turned in his direction.

"What?" she asked, slowly lowering her weapon, "You look like I just killed your dog."

"Not much for impulse control are you?"

"Oh come on, Van Helsing. You can't tell me that as a infamous hunter such as yourself, you don't know that when the bad person keeps rambling on, they're obviously trying to cause a distraction."

"A distraction from what?" he asked and moved his hat back a bit further, giving him a very lazy appearance. Rawnie only shook her head and dropped her hands limply to her sides. She swore this man was hopeless.

"You should…learn to listen to women more often, Gabriel," the familiar voice sprung up again, forcing the two on the lower level to shrug off their conversation and bring their firearms back up to the balcony's level. There, grasping onto the railing for dear life, the figure pulled itself up steadily, her condition seeming to improve with every passing second that flew by. The first word that sank into the mans head was 'vampire', but Rawnie was as unsure as she looked. Her head was tilted to the side slightly and her eyes wide with confusion. In the midst of this emotion, another shot was fired from the shaky weapon and the lead bullet forced into the person's body once more, nearly at the same location as the first. Van Helsing would have taken the time to compliment the woman's aim, but the fact that the figure was no longer showing any reaction toward the blasts held his attention tighter.

"You have come, my questions have been answered, and now my tests to be completed," the unknown spoke again, appearing to glance between both man and woman, "Your appearance was unexpected and unsolicited, Gabriel Van Helsing. Though the thought of keeping you around for mere entertainment is enlightening, I must not run the threat of you proving to be a…distraction." Along with the last words, the unseen eyes locked on Rawnie.

"Distraction from what, dare I ask?" Van Helsing asked and quirked a brow, his eyes full of genuine interest.

"I must now bid you farewell, Gabriel, this day will prove to be the end for you. As for you, Rawnie Valerious," she went on ignoring the mans question, "Try not to get yourself killed."

"What…" the gypsy started and faded into a small, meek voice when the ear splitting shriek that was heard outside earlier rang achingly through the halls of the castle, bringing the four searchers to raise their hands to their assaulted ears. It took a great act of balance for Van Helsing and Rawnie to still hold their weapons in their hands while cupping their ears, but somehow they managed quite well until the howl ceased.

"What in Gods name was that?" Carl exclaimed from the sidelines, still hidden well behind one of the sturdy pillars that ran around the room. Charlie was quick to nod his head in agreement to the question and glanced around the column timidly. Both the man and woman shook their heads before turning back to the balcony to word the question themselves, but the dark figure was no longer perched above them. The first reaction was to let out a sight of relief, but that action was rudely interrupted by a powerful quake that ran through the building, sending the rotten bag objects falling from the ceiling and splattering most unceremoniously on the floor. Much like a housewife spotting a helpless mouse in her newly tidied kitchen, Rawnie hopped around from place to place trying desperately to avoid the mess that the bags threatened. However, Van Helsing was too busy staring toward the large arched doorway at the right side of the room to attempt any escape of the grotesqueness.

"Rawnie," he stated in a stiff voice as he slowly backed toward the underside of the balcony, signaling silently for the other men to stay put.

"Get off, get off, get off!" the woman said in reply to not her name, but to a clump of molding crust plopping onto her shoulder.

"Rawnie," he said again with more force as he raised the powerful shotgun up toward the entryway at the side. When she again made no effort to give a response, Gabriel raised his voice a few notches.

"Rawnie!"

"What, damnit!" she finally let out and turned abruptly toward the Roman man, nearly slipping on a section of bag material.

"Don't. Move. A muscle," he muttered out through clenched teeth, his eyes plastered on the doorway behind the gypsy woman. For a moment, she only quirked a brow and adorned a grin that clearly showed she didn't take his warning seriously. That expression slipped away slowly like wax off a lit candle when her brown orbs caught sight of Carl and Charlie pressing themselves against the pillar that gave them shelter as hard as they could, shielding them from the vision of…something.

Against all better judgment, Rawnie slowly turned her head around to see the creature that had everyone so spooked. Swallowing a mysterious lump that somehow formed in her tight throat, she closed her eyes and let out a heavy breath before gazing upon the source of the fear that radiated through the hall. When a thought to be last breath was sucked in and eye lids let open, the woman's body seemed to paralyze in both fear and astonishment. There, not ten yards away, a enormous, armored, two headed, serpent slithered through the arched passage, its left head scanned the dark room quizzically, but the right was focused straight down at the lone woman. Suddenly all the stories that she used to read flashed through Rawnies mind at the sight of the odd, and fierce creature. Scales ran up and down its body in a magnitude of shape and color, the thickness of them seen as it effortlessly moved across object that would impale lesser beasts. The body was long and limbless like that of a snake and held two large heads high off the ground on long, heavy plated necks. The combination of long snouts, sharp eyes, and razor like teeth reminded Rawnie much of a monitor lizard. To taste the air slick, black tongues flicked in and out of their mouths every few seconds as they ventured further into the area, pushing the human back toward the wall.

"Mr. Van Helsing," she whispered out when she finally came to join him along the wall, "You…you know what that is, right?"

"Not really," he shook his head lightly before looking over to her, "What is it?"

"No idea…that's why I was asking you."

The two's conversation was cut short by the whipping tale of the beast crashing brutally into the wall directly above them, raining chunks of stone down on their heads. Van Helsing dove behind a pillar to his right and Rawnie behind a pillar to her left, causing the two heads of the creature turn in opposite directions. It was then that they realized the amount of trouble they were in. Something that was out for blood that could watch its back with as much vision as it watched its front was not a good thing. Pulling out the twin pistol from her other hip, the woman glanced around the column carefully, keeping her weapons placed against her chest. On the other side of the room, the man could be seen doing the same with his shotgun.

"Rawnie!" Charlie's voice could be heard screaming across the room as the serpent slid its way over toward the two smaller men that were hunkering down behind a pile of discarded furniture and other objects.

"Don't you move, Charlie!" the woman responded with a demanding voice, "Keep Carl with you!"

If anyone agreed it was blocked by the shriek that was emitted from the beasts mouth when its left head snapped down at Van Helsing who had abandoned his hiding spot for a few choice shots at the creatures hide. For a split second, the situation turned comical. One head was focused on the two in the corner while the other was biting furiously down at the Roman, both being pulled in the opposite direction due to the others determination to get to the targets. Rawnie smiled lightly at the thought of finding the weakness of this monster. However, the grin crashed violently when the snake like thing proved to be more intelligent then previously thought. The two heads stopped their raging and looked at each other for a juncture and gave a series of nods here and there as if speaking in some twisted language. With that, they obviously broke down the facts and determined which human would be more of a threat…their choice was made distinct when they moved in unison and snapped down at Van Helsing.

"Shit," the woman muttered bluntly when one of the heads rammed into the man, sending him flying to the other side of the room, the reverberation of his impact on the wall causing the disgusting bags to drop from the ceiling like demented rain. The clank of the shotgun skidding across the debris ridden floor came to Rawnie's attention immediately. Holstering her pistols, she took in the scene in front of her, registering the likeliness that she would die. The shotgun was laying in a place on the floor where it could be a opportune spot one second, then a death zone the next. The beasts whipping tail made sure of that. Nevertheless, the man from Rome was only escaping the jagged teeth of the two heads by fractions as he backed away as best he could. It was only a matter of seconds before he backed into a wall and trapped himself. Idiot.

The run that she took off at was that of a gazelle being chased by a lion. She leapt over fallen bricks, dodged crumbling bags from the ceiling, and skipped over broken chairs and tables. Obviously, the sound of her approaching feet didn't catch the serpents ears, for it kept its sights on the man, who was equally oblivious to her approaching presence. It all seemed to be a situation of luck as the woman narrowly dodged the quick lashings of the tail and fell short of falling on a hunk of metal that would have surely caused her midsection some pain. Colliding with the cold, dirty floor below, Rawnie smiled widely as her eyes focused in on the shotgun resting directly in front of her eyes. Oh how she loved how fate always seemed to make up for its previous blunders.

Awkwardly scuffling to her feet, she scooped up the weapon and quickly aimed it toward the beast, eyes squinting down the barrel. Not only was the serpent surprised when the first shot rang off, but the scream from Charlie and Carl confirmed that they were unprepared for such a loud shatter as well. Though the bullet bounced off the strong scales and into a wall, it still served its purpose by dragging the attention away from Van Helsing and toward the woman. Chestnut eyes widened a fraction as the serpents gaze found her, but her reaction did not hesitate a bit. Her arm raised up, vision narrowed once again, and the trigger was yanked back firmly.

The first shot brought along a howling screech ending with the sickening sound of raw meat flopping onto the ground. The next shell that was released brought with it the slightest bit of a squeal from the creature before the sludgy noise reached everyone's ears once more. Following the starting voice from Charlie, a loud smack filled the hall as the carcass of the once fearsome reptile crumpled to the floor in a bloodied heap, the now bare stumps of neck pouring blood out onto the already messy floor.

For a few long moments silence filled the large room, the only sounds heard being the breathing of the four staring cautiously at the fallen monster, not prepared to trust that its death would come so soon. The gypsy clutched the shotgun in her gloved hands tightly and stared blankly at the body. Van Helsing slid down the wall he was pressed up against, the hat slipping from his head in the process. His expression wasn't that different from Rawnie's. To the side Carl and Charlie were clinging to a large stone column as if it were the only think keeping the big bad monsters from getting them.

"That's it?" Charlie shouted out, his voice twisted with the remaining fear in his usually calm tone. It was instantly clear that he had said what everyone was thinking.

"That's it?" Rawnie repeated and rested the shotgun on her shoulder as she narrowed her eyes at the dead creature in a confused manner, lip and eyebrow rising.

"All that hot air and it was taken down with a few shots to the head?" Carl scoffed and bravely stepped away from the column, hands crossed over his chest. Gabriel only stood from his position on the floor and dusted his hat off by slapping it against his thigh a few odd times.

"That's it," he said casually before taking his place beside the woman, "and we shouldn't be complaining about it."

"Complaining? No, no…just curious," the friar shrugged. Charlie nodded quickly in agreement. Beggar's can't be choosers.

"Two shots," the deep voice of Helsing commented, "Not a bad shot, are you?"

"I grew up in France," the Queen shrugged, "There's not really much of a choice when it comes to learning how to use guns and such. I'm actually not to skilled in much else."

"Then why carry this around?" he flicked the sword dangling from her side with a small smirk. She only gave another shrug while rolling her shoulders.

"I find it ups my sexual attractiveness." Van Helsing nodded slightly and gave a responding shrug of his shoulder.

"Rawnie," Charlies voice rang out from behind and caused the two older members of the group to turn around, almost lazy expressions on their faces.

"Yes, Charles?"

"It's….it's…"

"It's what?" Van Helsing mumbled and grabbed his shotgun away from the woman with a small smirk that bordered on flirtatious. He only received a glare and a quirked brow from her.

"That's….that's not…"

"Not…what?" Rawnie coaxed.

"Not…that's n-not…" Now Carl had joined in the stuttering game causing the others to groan in irritation. This was the last thing they needed.

"That's not what!"

"THAT'S NOT IT!" the men shouted and pointed toward them wildly, obviously something from behind raising a commotion.

All the Valerious and the warrior did was look at each other for a few moments before slowly turning their head around, feeling that what they would see would not settle their rattled nerves. At first, there was not much to be seen at all. There was the carcass in all its disgusting glory, blood and other liquids still seeping from its necks…but, now it seemed to be…twitching. Each of the fighters rose a lip in confusion as they fully turned toward the body, head tilting in a synchronized manner.

"What the hell…" Rawnie mumbled right before the two tattered wounds twisted around each other, muscles knitting together in places they shouldn't, and scaled flesh roll over slowly, slipping its way over the wounds. The woman's mouth was about to open again to ask some for of question, but it was never worded out loud. Instead, a burst of unknown fluids burst out from the two necks of the presumably dead creature, sending it spraying all over the two fighters nearby. Needless to say that Rawnie no longer had the capacity or will to speak, her mind completely distracted by the thick goop sliding down her face and body. A gloved hand raised to wipe away a glob before it rolled down her cheek and onto her mouth. The last thing she needed was having the taste of serpent liquid in her mouth.

"What…" Van Helsing started up, but once again, words were interrupted as another flow of liquid was spurted forward. However, this round stubs slid out from the wounds, covered in some form of placenta it seemed. The four humans in the room could only stare with wide eyes and mouths agape. Right before their eyes it seemed as if two new necks sprang up from the wounds on the original two, equaling an astounding number of four necks in all. This development sent the two closest people backing up slowly as the mystery unfolded in front of them. Skin grew, muscles shifted underneath new flesh, and heads formed on top of the new appendages. Just as Rawnie and Gabriel reached the row of columns where Carl and Charlie were currently hiding, four heads picked themselves up from the now wet floor and took a long look around.

The thing was alive…and now with four heads…

"It's a Hydra!" the lone woman screamed before a familiar roar was let out from all four open jaws and the reptile lunged for them, the attack only going unsuccessful because of the tightly built columns the group were plastered behind.

"Hydra?" Van Helsing mumbled, his teeth grinding together as the stone he was up against shook unsteadily when the thing hurled itself into the rows. "What in Gods name is that?"

Rawnie stared at him like he had also grown a few extra heads.

"Are you telling me that you hunt monsters for a living, and you…you don't know what a Hydra is?"

"I suppose that's what I'm saying isn't it?"

"Mythological creature of the Greeks," Carl pointed out, breaking apart the older mans sour tone, "Killed by Hercules."

"If it was killed by Hercules then what the hell is it doing here?" As Van Helsing spoke, the thing banged at the columns again in a frustrated manner. It was thirsty for blood.

"Perhaps he's on holiday," the woman spat out sarcastically, earning her a firm look.

"I'd hate to interrupt this lovely banter, but would someone do something constructive about this situation?" Charlie squealed out, leaning forward so he could see down the line of people toward the armed ones at the end. Chips of stone crumbled to the floor as the beast pounded on the columns relentlessly.

"The things covered in armor, how else are you suppose to kill it if you can't chop off its head?" Carl pondered and his expression melded into a thoughtful one. Rawnie quickly glanced around the column, surveying the scene quickly before being pulled back quickly by Van Helsing.

"I think you're missing the point of taking cover, Ms. Valerious."

"Rawnie. And the scales along its belly and neck slide up whenever it rears to strike," she said, biting her lip in concentration, "A good stab to the heart should do the trick."

"You sound as if your only squashing a spider, Rawnie. Raise your voice to the occasion!" the sophisticated peasant yelled. She only rolled her eyes. Meanwhile, the Roman was busy looking at what the woman had pointed out to him. It would be a tricking operation. It would have to be the exact right moment for the stab…but, it could work somehow or another. He would just need a distraction. Since Rawnie was the fastest he supposed she…

"One of us should go look for Dracula and Mrs. Cloak Woman. We can't just waste our time on a distraction." Hmm…that idea from the female marked her off as an option for the running bait.

"Have you gone daft? You think this is bad, Dracula is…"

"She's right, Carl," Van Helsing broke in, "Dracula is what we came here for, not the lizard."

"Then why don't we all go?" Charlie piped up before quickly skittering over to join Rawnie at her column.

"Because, Charles, Van Helsing is a man. The Hydra is a challenge. Men can't ignore challenges."

"I can ignore one," the two smaller males spoke out in suit. The older man and woman just looked at each other.

"Well…boys…"

"Incoming!"

At the hat adorned mans warning the powerful tail of the serpent whipped into the column beside the group of four, bringing it to groan painfully. Each of them stared up and winced as dust drifted down followed by bits of rock. One more hit and that thing was going down. Of course, the next series of sounds it made brought a few of the timid people to realize that it maybe sooner than later.

"I'll go look for Dracula," Rawnie offered.

"I'll go with you."

"No!" the three others yelled at Van Helsing then Rawnie spoke on her own, "You have to kill the Hydra."

"Then I'll go with you," this time Charlie spoke up.

"No!"

"I will," Carl raised his hand slowly.

"No!" the woman groaned and inched her way around the warrior, "No one's coming with me. Stay here and help him."

"But…" Charlie started off, but his words fell on uncaring ears as the female of the group sprinted through the columns and up the large stairway.

* * *

The large hallway was long, wide, dark, and cold. The little light that existed in the area was served by dimming torches placed along the walls. A once lavish rug ran down the center of the hallway, its edges now torn and ragged, catching on the heel of her boots every now and again. There were doors on either side of her, each open and showing nothing but bare studies and sitting rooms. All in all, the corridors of the castle reminded her a lot of the passages of her own manor back in the village. The evenly spaced doors, wooden floors, and numerous corners that made one thing the place must have wrapped around itself at least a hundred times.

Every little sound that was made seemed to send Rawnie into a panic. Even her own footsteps bothered her to some degree. Perhaps it was the odd chill in the air, or the knowledge that somewhere in the building, a large, dangerous vampire was waiting to find her, or for her to find him. Whichever came first. The most likely reason she was so skittish was the peculiar throb along her neck where the familiar scar shot down. It was bearable earlier, but now it nearly forced her to sit and take a break. It was an old, old wound in a place where nothing really rubbed together. Why was it suddenly firing up as if it were new again?

Rounding another corner, pistols firmly clutched in each hand, the gypsy slowly made her way down yet another corridor, curious and partly worried about the door that was placed at the end. Doorways at the end of a hall always signaled for a large room ahead. A vampire would need a large room for a coffin wouldn't he? It was likely, but she said she was going to search for Dracula. Running off from a room he may be dwelling in seemed to be the exact opposite. Grunting as she lost her footing on a particularly ripped bit of rug, she reached out for the door as he body was held prisoner by gravity and pulled toward the floor. Either grace didn't run in her family, or she was the regular odd ball that every family did have.

"Damn rug…" she cursed quietly as she picked herself up with the assistance of the door handle. Conveniently, the pressure of her hand brought the door open by the time she was on her feet, revealing a surprisingly lit room to her. Keeping the knob in her hand, she carefully slipped inside, eyes taking a few moments to adjust to the dramatic change in lighting. Candles upon candles were placed around the room. On mantles, sticks, the large chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and even the floor. It was a very large room as suspected, but surprisingly, there was nothing but two chairs and a large, finely crafted table covered in silks and velvet placed inside. Other than the three pieces of furniture and the other accessories, the room was bare. Nothing on the walls, no windows…oddly, and disturbingly blank.

Cautiously moving forward, she moved through the gatherings of pale candles and past the chairs to the heavy table in front of them. It was instantly obvious that it did not serve as an eating table or desk of any kind. Instead it held writings of some language she could not read and small shapeless figures placed here and there. In the middle, a stone slab that was at least three inches thick held two objects that seemed to be of extreme importance seeing that they were each framed with lovely fabrics and rich chains. One of the items was nothing but a simple earring. Granted it was spotted with jewels and framed with gold, but it was only a single earring. The other was a bit more of a mystery, so much so that it forced Rawnie to pick it up after holstering one of her pistols.

It was heavy, curved, and crafted of silver. Small designs were carved along the curved plate and a pin clasping the two sides together. Closer examination brought her to the conclusion that it was a hair clip. Obviously it was made for someone of wealth and fine taste. It seemed oddly familiar to her. The shine the light made along the risen parts of the carvings made her tilt her head and squint. It was a beautiful piece. It would look lovely against dark hair…

A sound from above forced her attention away from the hair clip and toward the ceiling. Something was moving around up there. Backing away from the alter, she absently placed the object in the pouch at her side. Upstairs. Of course. It seemed all the bad guys in the world loved to dwell in upstairs rooms. Pivoting on her hell, Rawnie made a silent sprint through the door, down the hall, and around a few corners until she reached the lone set of stairs she had come across before and decided to leave for later. It was never wise to wonder up further then one had too.

Taking a pistol in her empty hand once again, she awkwardly slammed herself against the wall when a sound made itself known up ahead. This new hallway was completely build of cold stone from floor to ceiling. One or possibly two flames lit the otherwise dim place, no window in sight that could be pointed out. Pushing along the rough wall, the woman licked her lips quickly in anticipation as a large door came into her sights, nearly thirty feet down. Taking a heavy breath, she tiptoed down the stretch, eyes rolling from side to side, careful to take notice of anything out of place or potentially hostile.

Scratches along the stones rang out loud behind her, bringing her body twisting around at a nearly painful speed. Paranoid? Of course not…A dreadful smell suddenly wafted its way through the corridor and to her nose. A hand was almost forced to loose it's gunning position and cover her nostrils. It had the distinct odor of meat. Raw, putrid meat. Wrinkling up her nose in distaste, the gypsy's eyes widened instantly as two or three shadows slinked by the door. They were relatively small, low to the ground, walking on four legs. From what she could see, they appeared to be nothing but dogs. However, the noises and smells they were creating told her otherwise.

"I…think…I'll go…in here…" she mumbled out loud, her feet automatically shifting backwards. Slow steps changed to quick, then fast, then panicked. Before she could stop herself, she was running down the hall at full speed, somehow knowing that these things had her in their sights. Whether they truly did or not was a mystery…Throwing open the door, she shoved herself inside, launching back against it, shoving the heavy thing closed behind her. Why was this place making her so damn nervous? Of course, she had every right to be nervous; there was a vampire after her. But, it still wasn't in her nature to act so…silly. Shaking her head, she then moved her eyes up to examine the room she had foolishly fled into. God knew what was waiting inside.

"Charming," she whispered. Spider webs, dust…bones…not much else was in the small room. Except of course the window to one side. It was large, the panes of glass making up most of the space. The whole thing seemed to be begging to be opened up so it could look upon the world. Obviously, whoever this Cloak Woman was, she had made sure this window was to be kept locked tight judging by the chains that bound it together. Her nerves shivered at the sight of it. Almost as if she had wanted to keep something inside.

That presumed something became a very real something once her vision floated around and crashed into the large, wooden object across the room. A large, wooden, closed object. A large, wooden, coffin.

How was she to know what she would find when she walked across the room. Was she suppose to guess what would be inside? As her hand gripped the creaking door, was she suppose to feel the fear that she lacked? When small splinters poked through her gloves, was she meant to pull away from fates intervention? After the lid banged against the wall was she meant to run off in fear?

"Yes," she answered her silent question out loud as now unsteady eyes stared at the black clad figure laying in the coffin, ebony hair splayed out at all sides, curling around his neck. Slipping her right hand up, she pointed the barrel of the pistol toward the mans head, mind telling her to shoot, to at least attempt a kill. She only stared and licked her lips before speaking in a rough, strangled voice.

"Hello, Count."

**REVVVVVVVVIIIIIIIEEEEEEEWWWWW!**


	8. What's Wrong With Me?

Chapter Eight: What's Wrong With Me?

He was a beautiful man…in her eyes. His skin was strikingly alabaster against his dark clothing and hair, giving him a nearly porcelain appearance. His face was distinguished and chiseled in a lovely way. Thin lips were parted ever so slightly, giving his features the only hint of innocence. Dark eyebrows rested above his closed eyes, oddly pushed together with stress. Long, lean arms were tossed over his body in an exhausted manner, leaving one hand lamely sprawled out over his vested chest, which showed no sign of breath. His fingers were long and graceful…perfect fingers for racing up and down the keys of a piano or teasing the strings of a violin.

However, Rawnies hand gripped the side of the wooden box tightly and her pupils seemed to shrink into nonexistence as her mind was assaulted with whispers and faded images. Her free hand moved from its place at her side and drifted over the profile of the unconscious villain. The compulsion to run her trembling fingers through his slick, dusky hair was nearly insanely ineluctable. Fine threads of pure obsidian slipped through her hand like liquid eventide, leaving her hand to clench with a foreign lust for more physical interaction with this dark being.

It was difficult to watch her opposite hand release the coffin and anxiously remove the glove from her right extremity before it moved down the counts face, his angular shoulder, and to his unmoving chest where his hand remained. Her face contorted into a look of helplessness when her bruised and hardened flesh met with his cool, quiet fingers. Behind the mumbles and pictures in her clouded mind, thoughts were formed and came to her attention…though, they were not hers. Thoughts that told her how it felt to have those balletic fingers waltz up and down the bare skin of her back, to have his fingertips skim down the length of her neck. Her mind conjured up random feelings of his hand shifting through her hair, his breath puffing out onto the nape of her bent neck, his teeth nipping at her jaw line…

"Jesus Christ," Rawnie spat out as her body lurched away from the box, hands tossed back as far as she could manage, and eyes rolling restlessly behind her eyelids which had slammed shut. What had crept into her mind to bring around these thoughts?

An immediate answer was given to her. A deep throbbing emitted from her shoulder sending her body buckling and then crumbling to the floor. The loosely held pistol in her hand was sent sliding across the floor and collided with a pile of rodent carcasses. A trembling hand yanked away the cloth covering the worn scar to reveal it to the dim light. The previously dead flesh was now a healthy crimson tone and pounding wildly like a second heart, pumping its own blood through her system. Her lungs worked unsparingly as the gypsy crawled over the floor back toward the coffin, the healthy color drained from her face.

Dragging herself up with the assistance of the wooden box, strangled heaves echoed through the chamber. With her legs firmly placed beneath her, Rawnie was able to right her posture with the hands still fastened onto the vampires resting place and the nape of her neck tightly. Muscles strained sending her head back, eyes rolling up toward the ceiling and mouth formed into a painful snarl.

It was then that the dull brown orbs were covered by trembling eyelids as if some horrific sight was being hidden. The Queens mind reeled, trying desperately to become accustom to this strange sensation that was overwhelming her body with every beat of her panicked heart. Ideas were thought up, but the change her body seemed to be going through did not allow the thoughts to continue further. Throb, after throb, a cold, sharp pang spread through her already unstable body. It was as if something was clawing its way through her arms, down her legs, and into her mind.

This overreaction was made literal when her eyes were shoved open just in time to reveal the new tint they had acquired. Instead of the placid chocolate that had previously looked upon the world with a dull interest, there was now two shockingly green oculars glaring up toward the heavens with a heavy coat of infuriation.

"My love…" the woman's voice croaked out, now formed into an oddly familiar silky voice that seemed to twist its way around her neck with a dangerous, yet soothing fashion.

The moment the words were spoken, the creature laying unconscious in the coffin jerked to life for a brief moment, his eyes wide with some untamed look, and hands gripping the sides of his casket bringing the wood to splinter under pressure of his strength. Rawnies own hand moved to latch onto the vest her was adorned with, her head rolling back down, the emerald gleam still fresh in her gaze.

If there had been a reason for his sudden awakening it remained unknown, for as quickly as his body sprang to life, it once again slipped back into hibernation, his eyes collapsing shut, and hands falling from the sides of his wooden prison. The woman sunk downward, her hand still holding fast to his clothing. Carefully balancing on the balls of her feet, Rawnie stared out in front of her at the cold stone wall, her mouth opening and closing randomly as the scorching pain that enveloped her body retreated back to the red source on her collar, and the sharp emerald slipped away from her eyes leaving behind nothing but a very confused, very tired, and very sweaty shell of a female.

"Rawnie!" a voice screamed from outside of the dank room, closely followed by a trotting Charlie and running Carl. Turning about to face them quickly, the elder of the three twisted her feet together bringing her body to stumble forward again. However, the uneasy state in which the two males were in did little to help them recognize this.

"W-What are you doing up here?" she finally choked out, returning to her upright stance and glaring over at the two hovering in the doorway, "I told you to stay with Van Helsing."

"He said that we were more trouble than we were worth, and that we bring more casualties than help," Charlie said and crossed his large arms over his chest in a hurt manner. Carl only nodded beside him and pulled his little hat further down over his messed hair.

"He sure is a caring individual," Rawnie grumbled and rolled her now chestnut eyes before wiping her head free of any salty perspiration that may have seeped through her tingling skin.

"Yes, well…the only thing we were capable of doing was checking the spider web production under the rubble, and…" the little friar spoke up as he cautiously walked about the room avoiding the rubble before his speech was cut short when the large, wooden box came to his attention. His hands immediately went into timid mode and clasped together in front of his abdomen, eyes moving back and forth between the woman and the box. Charlie on the other hand was far too busy fixing his now filthy clothing and making sure his hair was in proper place.

"Um, excuse me, Ms. Valerious…"

"Rawnie."

"Yes…Rawnie. What, may I ask, is inside of that…um…"

"Coffin?"

"Coffin? Oh is that was it is? I simply thought it was a moving crate of some kind…GOOD GOD!" Carl shrieked when the contents of the 'crate' met with his eyes. Falling backwards and scooting across the dirty floor, the poor fellow slammed into the far wall and remained in a sitting position, hands grasping for anything sharp around him.

"Not what you expected?" she grinned and stepped away from the box calmly.

"Well of course not!"

"What is it?" Charlie asked from the other side of the room, sure confusion on his handsome features. Before Rawnie could open her mouth to answer, Carl stood up quickly and shot a finger at the man in the box.

"The son of the Devil! The most despicable, vile, bloodthirsty creature to ever roam these lands! He's cruel, evil, and…mean! He is Dracula, my dear Charles!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the gypsy chuckled and patted the holy man on the shoulder, "Calm down and climb off of your little soapbox, Carl."

The red faced friar glanced back and forth between the other male in the room and the Valerious at his side. Clearing his throat in a nearly embarrassed tone, he gave a small nod and held his hands behind his back.

"He's asleep," Rawnie added, "and I don't think he's waking up anytime soon."

"What gives you that idea?" Charlie questioned and peeked over the side of the coffin.

"Because I made enough noise earlier to wake up a bear in hibernation."

"What happened?"

"Don't bother with it Charlie. Now, both of you help me get this lid on," the woman replied and began heaving up the nearly broken lid to the box by the doorway. Even with her back facing the men, she could sense their hesitation and barked out a quick, "Now."

Immediately the two skittered off to work and helped haul the bulky wood from the floor and shuffled towards the coffin. It was unnerving for even the two who were unfamiliar with the wrath of the vampire to stare at his face as the lid was shoved down over the opening and slip the locks into place tightly. The moment the clatter was over with and the room was once again filled with silence, the three stared at each other from across the box, hands still fixed on the lid as if they expected the count to rise up out from his prison and wreak havoc upon them. However, nothing but an unforgiving silence followed.

"Alright," Rawnie sighed out.

"Alright," both Charlie and Carl mumbled in unison.

"Now, get him downstairs."

"WHAT?"

"We're going to take him home and lock him up in the dungeons until we figure all this out," the woman explained and went on when she received nothing but a blank, shocked stare from both, "If we leave him, he'll only come after me again. If we bring him, we'll be able to control that, now won't we?"

"Well, yes, but…" Carl stuttered briefly before shaking his head and stepping away from the box, "But he's Dracula."

"Glad that you caught onto that, Carl, now help Charles get him downstairs."

"How do you propose we do that?" the said peasant piped up, "drag him behind the horses?"

"No," the strange queen grunted and sat her hands firmly on her hips, "drag him between the horses. We don't need the townspeople to see a coffin being pulled through the streets. Latch rope to the handles and tie them onto your saddles."

"But won't that be awfully rough on the fellow?"

"I shot nearly ten bullets into him on the way to Rome, I don't think some jolting around in a coffin is going to bother him. Besides, he's asleep. He probably won't feel a thing."

"What if the rope breaks and the coffin falls?"

"The go to plan B and just drag him as you first implied."

"How do we deal with Van Helsing?" Charlie shot another question in her direction while examining the sides of the box. Carl only stared with his mouth agape at the two.

"I saw a side entrance on my way up here, take him through there. Van Helsing doesn't need to know about this yet. The boy has already dealt with a large serpent today, he doesn't need a bat as well."

"Fine, fine," the sophisticate nodded and wrapped his hands around the handles on his side while looking over toward the friar, "Well?"

"Well?" Carl blurted out, "Well, are you two completely out of your minds! This is Count Vladislaus Dragulia! The scourge of your family Ms. Valerious-"

"Rawnie."

"RAWNIE. Responsible for the death of your ancestors, including your father and brother! How can you even think of taking him to your home?" he concluded with a near helpless look on his face, his fingers pointed down toward the coffin where the vampire rested.

"Because at my home I can control him from killing me as well, Carl, now please, help Charlie with the bloodthirsty vampire while I go and tell Van Helsing that his playtime is over," the woman answered with a twisted look on her face before she exited the room, leaving the two men to stare in terror at the coffin in their hands containing the creature that would be in their possession for the next hour or so.

* * *

"How in the world did you manage to loose your boot?"

"You have asked that five times, Ms. Val-"

"Rawnie."

"You have asked that five times, Rawnie, and the answer is the same. I don't know," Van Helsing spat out as the two trotted on for town, the female snickering at the males bare foot.

"How could you not know? You were there weren't you?"

"Yes, but-" he stopped and flapped a dismissive hand her way, blowing out an irritated puff of air, "Forget it."

The Valerious woman gave a few closed lipped chuckles before the two entered the boundaries of Vaseria. After leaving the two men behind with the coffin full of vampire, Rawnie had found Van Helsing, or Gabriel as she had started to call him regularly, up to his eyeballs in trouble. Though the beast had been done away with and its corpse was flopped over the floor messily, the Roman man was left to only be pinned under the dead weight of the hydras massive tail. Seeing it that he was casually lying with his hands crossed under his head and legs locked at the ankles, Rawnie was fairly certain that the man figured someone would eventually come along.

One or two bystanders along side the muddy road were caught snickering at the exposed foot of the Roman warrior, which earned them a deadly glare and an uncomfortable expression as well. On the other side of the road, Rawnie was staring wide-eyed at the tracks in the mud. Two uneven lines of horse prints and the heavy dip in the middle where something had obviously been dragged. She had to hold back the pathetic urge to slap her hand over her face. Lovely. To add to the worry inside her mind, a small group of older women out of the corner of her eye gossiped back and forth about a, 'peculiar box being hauled through town by that mouse like friar and that wide brute'. A snort was brought from the gypsy at the word 'brute' being connected to Charlie. That was simply not done.

"Ms. V-"

"Rawnie."

"Rawnie…you never told me if you came across anything. Any signs of vampires, witches, or anything else in between?"

She opened her mouth once then closed it back up tightly. Lifting herself from her saddle momentarily to situate her sudden nervous body, a wince crossed her countenance. Something resting at her waist dug painfully into her skin, saving her from answering the loaded question right away. Gritting her teeth and yanking the object from the small baggy resting at her hip, Rawnie bit her lip. It was the silver hair accessory she had discovered in the 'shrine room', as she had decided to dub it as. After rolling it around slowly in her fingers, she sealed it up inside the pouch once more and became aware that Van Helsings hard eyes were studying her.

"No…no, I don't think I did," she started in a surprisingly casual voice, "There was nothing overly dangerous that I could see."

"Really?" the man mumbled and tilted his head upward slightly so he was looking down his fine nose at the woman, "Strange. You would think there would be something."

"Yes, one would think so."

"Yes, they would."

"Sure would."

"Mmhmm," Gabriel quirked a brow instantly.

"What?"

"What, what?"

"God…"

"You shouldn't take his name in vain."

"Don't start preaching to me, Gabriel Van Helsing," Rawnie sneered before digging her heels into the side of her stubborn horse, leaving behind the grinning man.

* * *

"Why aren't you eating, Gabriel?"

"Why aren't you eating, Ms. Val-Rawnie?"

"I'm eating, I just like to pace myself," the woman answered and prodded the plate of food in front of her. Glancing up and down the long dining room table in the Valerious Manor at the leather clad man, she tapped her fork on the good china.

"I'm just not hungry," the man answered, giving his excuse with the same uneasy look. A few minutes passed in utter silence before he piped up again, "Where are Charlie and Carl?"

At this, Rawnie hesitated and forced herself not to glance behind her in the direction she knew the entrance to the lower levels of the house was.

"Sleeping I believe," she spat out and popped a bite of beef into her mouth, "They had a stressful day."

"Of course," Van Helsing nodded and jabbed a spoon into his potato's.

This uncomfortable aura had been following the two ever since they had entered the city gates. Gabriel knew that the Transylvanian knew something about what was in that castle, and he knew that she would be wanting to question why he had never said anything about his first name. He always found that women found that suspicious.

Rawnie on the other hand was silent because she knew that Van Helsing knew that she knew something. She had to keep going over the reason…it confused her as well. The moment she walked into her new home, she swore that she could hear the animal cries of the vampire below. It would have concerned her that Charlie and Carl hadn't yet returned from their secret mission, but the sight of their heads peeking around the doorway earlier and the reassuring nods that they sent put her at ease.

Van Helsing tapped his fingers on the shiny wood of the table a few odd times and stared down at the lady of the manor. He wasn't shocked to see her doing the same. And when he quickly stood from his chair, it wasn't a surprise that she did the same.

"Where are you going?" the both asked in unison.

"The bar," they replied.

"Why?" again, together.

A pause.

A glare.

A gnash of teeth.

A tap of fingertips.

A glass shattering howl from the basement.

"Rawnie."

"Gabriel."

In a flash, both man and woman were racing through the doorway, each desperately trying to get in front of the other. Grunts and shrieks of protest raged on and the howling and roaring coming from below continued with a fierce strength. In tables were pushed aside, vases knocked over, and pictures flew from the walls when bodies made impact with them. The clean, shimmering floors were scuffed as boots slid around corner after corner, the bone chilling sounds growing louder and louder by each footfall. The double doors to the lower levels were sent banging open by Gabriel's strong arms, while the seven steps were easily conquered by Rawnie's nimbleness. Carl and Charlie came dashing down the stone basement hall toward the two racers, yelling something incoherent.

As the two screamers were pushed aside, the older people twisted around each other as another corner turned into their direction. One more larger flight of stairs dropped down sharply, leaving the man to whisk down them quickly and the woman to leap down three steps at a time. This stone corridor was ended by a large, wooden door which seemed to be shaking dangerously on its hinges. Inside the room, another screaming sound emitted, bringing the two pairs of legs to kick into overdrive.

"Van Helsing, stay away!" Rawnie screamed through her gasps.

"What did you do, Ms. Valerious?" he replied loudly as his ungloved hand reached out prematurely for the steel door handle which he was quickly approaching.

"What needs to be done!" the woman threw a hand out, knocking the Romans from the air. He was NOT going to release the vampire.

Again, the two acted in unison as they met with the door roughly and shoved it open together. However, it was Rawnie who made it through the entrance first and blocked the path of the bulky man.

"Shit," was the first word out of Gabriel's mouth, and a surprised look came over the Queens. After all, it was the first time she had heard Van Helsing actually speak a superior curse word. Though she could hardly blame him.

Chains strained and clattered recklessly as the creature launched itself over and over from the wall. His massive legs and arms were working tirelessly at the strong bolts holding his bonds into place. Wings were spread across the room scratching the walls and ceiling painfully, bringing blood up through the gray skin. The clamps placed over his limbs and neck bit into his flesh as well and noticeable spots of blood dripped to the floor. His strength may have been impressive, but the half dozen chains holding him in place put up a defense that was impenetrable.

When the large door of the room banged against the outer wall announcing the arrival of someone in the makeshift prison, the struggling came to a shockingly abrupt halt and the vampires head moved up from its downward position. His long inky hair masked most of his face, but the pounding eyes peered out at them without struggle. Rawnie could feel Van Helsing tense up behind her, knowing of his experience with this…monster. But, to his surprise, it wasn't him that the eyes automatically fixed on.

Gabriel cautiously looked over at Rawnie, following the intense stare of the ancient villain. The woman's face was slack and her mouth open a fraction as if breath were hard to come by. Her usual hard gaze was now that of a doll as she looked back at the now docile beast not three yards away from her.

"Rawnie…" the warrior mumbled and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Though her body felt no sign of the strangeness that had overcome her, the woman's words told all that the Roman was thinking.

"What's wrong with me?"

* * *

**REEEEEVIIIIIEEEEWWWWW! Please...**


	9. Disapproval and Unwanted Thoughts

Chapter Nine: Disapproval and Unwanted Thoughts

"What could have possibly possessed you to do such a thing, Ms. Valerious?"

"Rawnie."

"Rawnie, Ms. Valerious…it doesn't matter. Are you capable of conceiving the thought of what you have brought into your home?"

"A vampire, Van Helsing. I brought home a vampire. Oh, can't I keep it?" the woman squeaked out with her hands clasped under her chin like a child begging to keep a kitten she had found on the street. The look on the mans face told immediately that he wasn't amused.

"Oh, good Lord, Gabriel. He's chained up. What's he going to do?" she finished and was immediately followed by the sound of two men screaming into the room. Carl and Charlie swerved around the corner, latched onto the table and stood panting for a few moments before glancing up at the older pair who were giving them concerned and amused eyes.

"H-He lunged at us," Charlie breathed and flapped a hand down toward his jacket, "The thing nearly grabbed onto me."

"Van Helsing, I don't know if I'm completely comfortable with him being here."

"Oh, not to worry, Carl. He's chained up," the warrior spoke, his voice thick with the attempt at chiding Rawnie. With that, the leather clad man took his leave from the room with heavy footsteps, leaving the other two males to look to the Valerious for some kind of answer. Even though the question was unknown.

"Don't look at me like that," she hissed before following suite and barged into the hallway on Van Helsings heels.

"No, no, no. You're not scolding me for this. I KNOW this was the right thing to do."

"And how exactly do you figure that?" he puzzled without turning around or halting in his brisk strut down the corridor.

"Because now we know where he is and we can control-"

Van Helsing stopped momentarily and glared back at her.

"Control him for the most part," she corrected herself and rolled her shoulders a bit, "You can't honestly say that we would be better off if he was free to come and snatch me up as he pleased?"

"And he doesn't have that luxury now, Ms. Valerious?" he held a hand up to stop her from correcting him, "If he wanted out, Dracula would already be marching up those stairs aiming for your jugular."

"Then why hasn't he, Mr. Van Helsing? Why doesn't he come up here and suck me dry?" Rawnie tossed a hand out toward the general direction of the basement, "Besides, he's made not direct attempt to harm me as of yet."

"No, but it seems his little friend back in the castle had an eye for you."

With that, the gypsy flung her arms in the air as if to admit defeat and shoved her way passed the larger man. What an irritating person he was. She had the distinct feeling that no matter what she threw at him he would only throw logical remarks back. Logic was not her ally. With her heels stabbing down at the hardwood floor with every sharp step, Rawnie curved around corner after corner, further and further away from Gabriel Van Helsing. Though she had the nagging feeling that he wasn't too far behind. Her destination wasn't a secret. It floated in the air like the chilled calm before a terrible storm, just waiting to unleash the chaos onto the world.

She was sure the creature she was about to confront downstairs had the fury of a few good thunderstorms.

Mrs. Danmonet was stationed in her path, giving a side table a good cleaning with a washrag. The good old woman stopped mid scrub and stood erect to give the younger woman a bright smile. However, patience did not allow for a smile to be returned. Instead, Rawnie blew by the maid with a stern face and hands gripping tightly at her sides. As she reached the end of the hall and was confronted with the narrow flight of stairs, she could clearly hear Van Helsing behind her saying something to Mrs. Danmonet in regards to the Queens behavior. She didn't stand around to hear any of it.

As the stone steps were being descended and the long hall toward the heavy mahogany door was sprawled out for her to see, Rawnie gave a soft curse up toward the heavens for her ancestor that placed this infuriating burden on his family. 'Vanquish Dracula, or my family will never enter the gates of St. Peter, my ass', she thought bitterly. If not for that moronic man, she would have no connection with this accursed vampire and would still be in France drinking, eating, and sleeping to her hearts content.

"Rawnie," the roman man shouted from behind her as he made his way down the stairs after her.

"Congratulations. You've finally managed to speak my name without prodding. You should be proud."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to talk to him," she spat out in a voice drenched with determination. She could almost feel the tension building up behind her within the man.

"What do you plan on saying? And doing for that matter? 'Hello, Dracula. I'm Rawnie. Please enjoy the accommodations and help yourself to my vein'?" he barked as his steps became quicker my the second.

"Perhaps. I haven't gotten that far yet," the woman sneered with a annoyed grin.

"You do know your reckless nature is going to get someone killed one of these days, don't you? Do you understand the danger you've put everyone in this house-"

"I know, I know," Rawnie grunted and flicked a hand back in his direction. "And yes, I also know that dear, sweet Anna would never do such a thing, right?"

As she spoke, her hand reached out and pulled the door open with a quickly snap and sent it banging against the door. Turning her head away from the fuming man behind her, the Valerious brought her attention around to the object of fear in her household. She did not know what she had expected to see sitting in the small chamber, but her mind was given a small shock by what her eyes took in. Instead of the large beast pulling at his restraints and flapping his mighty wings wildly, there was a lithe man sitting on the old creaking bench. His arms were resting on his knees, hands limp as they dangled toward the ground. His turned down face was not visible to her as his loose, messed ebony hair was tossed in front. He made no movement as she took small, coy steps into the stuffy room though she was certain he was very aware of her presence.

"Quare operor vos astrum procul mihi, mulier?"

His voice was dry yet smooth at the same time and took Rawnie by surprise. She blinked her chocolate eyes a few times before taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Latin. She didn't speak Latin. Licking her chapped lips, the woman opened and closed her mouth a few times before speaking. Count Vladislaus Dragulia seemed like he would be a man of the world. Surely he would know Romanian.

"De ce esti tu a continua eu?" Asking why he was after her was a good question, but yet it seemed so pitiful. When his head moved up a fraction, she couldn't help by give a small smile of triumph. Communication with the beast.

"Do you expect a simple and truthful answer?" Van Helsing spoke up from a few feet behind her, his arms crossed tightly over his chest in a disapproving manner.

"Honestly, no, but I am interested in what he has to say for himself."

"And I'm sure your sister allowed him to say a few words before-"

"Continue with that sentence and-"

"You are mistaken to presume that the woman shares the same mental enervation."

The man and woman drifting in the doorway of the prison halted in their interjections with each others speaking and brought their attention back to the vampire who was still hunched over. Rawnie only looked down at him with vague curiosity and near thankfulness that he would say something in good regards toward her. It was awfully sad that she was now drinking up the compliments given even by the darker of people.

Van Helsing on the other hand tightened his body even more and brought his arms down to his sides slowly. His battered hat covered most of his face, but Rawnie could guess that it was not amusement he was radiating toward the smaller man.

"Enervation?" Gabriel spoke in a voice that nearly hitched to a growl.

"Ms. Anna's mind was weakened by her own emotions. She had long ago cornered herself within her subconscious, filling her otherwise adroit mind with nothing but thoughts of the deaths she had been faced with," Dracula paused for a moment, as if breathing in the deep scent of Van Helsings growing anger, "Of course…her mentality couldn't have been terribly sound in the beginning since it was so easily dissolved by such common matters as a death of the family."

"You will shut your mouth," the roman forced out through is teeth. Rawnie only looked on with interest as the Count spoke his words. Words that were true for all she knew.

"Est vestri mens iam ut pallens? Operor vos etiam suspiro suus tactus?" the Count hissed out, his head raising up a bit so that the pleasure he was receiving from Van Helsing's anger could be clearly seen. What he said was lost on Rawnie, but by the tone and expression moving across the large mans face, it was not something pleasant. Before she knew it, Van Helsing's temper was let loose and he lunged forward, knocking the woman aside for a short time.

Dracula stood from his resting spot and watched with demented glee as his enemy came at him, eyes gleaming with a hatred that still ran as thick as the blood in his veins. The pale, grinning face of the Count would have been given a good beating if not for the sharp spike of electricity which was sent springing through Rawnie's body.

'My love is in danger,' a voice echoed from within her mind.

"In danger," the woman repeated aloud.

'I must protect my darling,' it whispered again.

"Must protect." As soon as the voice had appeared, it sank back into the depths of her mind, leaving the Valerious leaping toward Van Helsing and knocking him away from the chained vampire and into the cold stone wall of the manor. Her hands were locked firmly on the strong mans muscular shoulders and she could feel her gloved nails etching their way into his leather protected flesh. With eyes turned down and hair sprawled over her face, Rawnie was sure that no one could catch witness to the feral look her otherwise dull features had morphed into. Helsing shoved against her once, causing her heels to dig into the dirt ridden floor, but her suddenly powerful limbs would give him no leeway.

"What are you-"

"It's what he wants," she coughed out, maintaining a fairly calm voice and yet keeping her head at a lower level, "This anger is what he wants. Stay calm and he won't have anything to work off of."

"Aha, Gabriel, you see the logic this one carries?" the chained one laughed dryly as the scene was spread before him. The taunted man sneered dangerously over Rawnie's head and toward the vampire, but the ebony haired only had eyes for the still clutching woman.

"Let's just go back up stairs," the woman breathed out, slowly releasing her fingers from around the thick coat. Bringing her head back up and a proper angle and situating her shoulders, Rawnie managed a small smile. "Shall we?"

"Yes," Van Helsing answered quietly and moved along the wall and back toward the large doorway where the escape from the tension was open, "Sure."

Soon following in his footsteps, the gypsy ran a hand over the dusty wall as she walked as if expecting something to attempt to toss her to the side. The heat from Van Helsing walking in front of her seemed to grow and grow until it was unbearable. She wanted him out of the room. She wanted him away from her…away from the Count. Soon she found herself glaring at his broad back, lip raised slightly with an animalistic sense. He needed to leave, go away, never come back down here.

The moment his bulky body was clear of the room, the Valerious woman automatically stopped her movements and rolled her eyes back over to the creature not three meters away. His gaze was unseen, but it was felt like a cool liquid pouring down her bare back. Instead of the annoying heat she was receiving from the warrior previously, she was now filled with a soothing chill that wrapped her body in a thin layer. She wanted nothing more than to lay in this cool forever, breathing in its brisk texture and wrapping herself in the feel of freedom she was conveying from it all.

Even though her eyes were firmly locked on his body, the sound of the Counts chains rattling startled her and she took in a wider image than only the source of the chill in the chamber. Instead of the limp nature that chains were experiencing not a moment ago, they were now taught as the object they were entrusted to contain pulled at their hinges slowly. The Count moved across the room as much as he was allowed, straining against his confines and leaning out toward the woman who was desperately trying to keep her position. It felt like the room was slowly filling up with a strange energy. It was pulling at Rawnie's ankles, then her knees, then hips, and it continued rising until it reached up and lapped at her collar scar, bringing her to force her legs to take her the last few steps toward the door.

Outside, she could see Van Helsing waiting patiently by the stairway, but she didn't join in yet. Her breaths were clambering out of her mouth clumsily before she spoke, but somehow her body found the air to voice her words.

"You never answered my question."

"Ah, yes, why do I seek you out?" Dracula murmured once and as if the chains had suddenly released him, his voice curled up over her neck and around her ear giving a feeling of close proximity that forced Rawnie to take off down the hall. "Tu seek eu , si I tu. Tu a face nu understand it , numai tu vei ficat it înauntru timp."

_"You seek me, and I you. You do not understand, but you will live it in time."_

* * *

"_He's gone_!" a voice shrieked throughout the whole of Castle Frankenstein.

Doors banged and crashed into walls, unknown creatures howled and raged within the walls, and the mysterious person screamed out in rage. She stormed through the halls, tearing down paintings, turning over furniture and slamming open doors until she reached her desired location. As raced into the room, the candles flickered wildly and grew taller with each step the being took toward the lit alter. A cloaked hand reached out and shoved away a few of the tall candles which were barring her view before clashing her fist down on he soft fabric lining the antique table.

Long, jagged nails tore at the velvet as a foreign sound slid from her withered throat.

"_Gone_," she paused for a moment and moved her fingers from the vacant spot and over to the glittering earring. The stone set in its center shone brightly against the otherwise dark surroundings, but was quickly concealed by the hand of the ghastly figure, "_Perhaps…perhaps it is time. Perhaps I need to place another player out on the board_."

As the hand disappeared back inside the heavy garments, the woman turned slowly towards the door, her feet making no sign of presence as she moved. A few choice candles reached out toward her clothing with the long flames and yet kept themselves from latching onto her. From the doorway a distinct odor arose as the sound of shuffling feet echoed through the tightly packed stone of the wall. The unknown stopped mid-step when a rather large assembly of creatures gathered around the threshold, their terrible visage all too clearly brightened by the many flames.

"_Find him_," she ordered and pointed a thin hand out toward the vicinity of the small town, "_But, no…do not return him…this could be a fine opportunity. Watch him and wait. You need not do more_."

As if verbally agreeing, the things gave a few grunts and groans before retreating back down the corridor and through the insides of the building toward the exit. As soon as the doorway was cleared, the mistress moved from the dank room and towards the clean air of the chiseled window at the end of the hall. The lights of Vaseria were quickly being pushed to be brighter by the upcoming nightfall. The darkness would offer more angles for this game she was playing in. Below, the syndicate of creatures swept over the small bridge and into the thick forest as the woman looked on with minor interest.

"_I may no longer hold your thoughts in my grasp, Vladislaus, but your instincts will do the work for me_," she stopped and pulled a small, childlike ring from her garments and rolled it between her fingers.

"_And her desires will gladly oblige_."

* * *

**Yes, yes, I know. It's short, but I already have an idea for the next chapter, so it shouldn't take too long to post…and…sorry once again for the delay, I'm a bad, bad girl. Alright, on the Latin and Romanian language, don't hate me if it's a little off, I used an online translator. I can no sooner speak Latin or Romanian then I can French, and ask around…I'm bad at it. Alright, well I hope you enjoyed, and by all means…REVIIIIEEEEWWW!**


	10. Drunken Arguements and Basement

Chapter Ten: Drunken Arguments and Basement Happenings

_Teeth raked gently yet fiercely down the exposed flesh of her curving spine. His hands made a repeating voyage down the slip of her ribs, the dip of her waist, and the swell of her hip until the ends of his vigilant fingers swept down over the bend of the thigh. An amount of pressure was given on the upward gesture and brought the one receiving the menstruations to allow the muscles in her neck to fail and let her head fall backwards…_

_A violin played…_

_Hair the shade of pitch formed a thick curtain around her face, blocking out any unwanted images. Her hands slid up the length of his torso before grasping and tearing away the offending shirts which blocked entrance to the cool skin that lay beneath. She felt the weight of his larger body force down on her own, but she paid no mind. Agile lips played over the angle of her chin and nipped up at her slack mouth…_

_A violin played…_

_The bow of her strained back served as a pasture for his roaming hands. Words passed his lips but they were fatally diffused as his mouth had buried itself within the flex of her neck. Her nails stabbed at his back with every moment and her mouth opened and closed periodically as if she was biting at the sky…_

_A violin played…_

_Again he spoke, but she could not make out the sound. Only the vibrations rumbling from his chest reached her attention as her fingertips traced the protruding bones of his collar. She responded, but he did not notice. His ears were far too interested in what her gasps were telling him…_

* * *

Rawnie flew up in her bed, sheets tangled around her curled legs. Sweat seeped from her skin and soaked the thin garment wrapped around her body. Her breath shot out of her parted lips fiercely as her shaking hands gripped at the bedding below her. The already messed hair was tangled roughly and strewn around her face, blocking her frightened, yet lustful eyes from any gaze that may be barreling down upon her. 

Sexual fantasies were never a rarity for the painfully single woman, but the lack of giant olives or midgets running around the room left her with a feeling of not waking from a dream. It was far, far to realistic for her taste. Though realism was usually never a bad thing in such dreams, the startling image of the man hovering over her with the generous hands took the shape of the very vampire in the holding cell a few stories below her.

The feel of his long fingers along her spine was still freshly lined on her back, and the tiny places along her shoulder still held the small indents of his tasting teeth. The whole thought of it forced her to slide from the bed and take a few steps away from the resting place that had fed her these images. Her hands gripped at the long sleeves of the oversized shirt she had the long running habit of sleeping in, leaving behind the beautiful silks and satins in the wardrobe across the room. Her exposed legs became covered in bumps for a moment from being hit with the force of the cold air that circulated through the manor. Unsteady hands felt along the short sofa for the robe she had discarded before retiring to bed earlier and quickly slipped it over her shoulders.

"Need alcohol," she breathed out as her arms wrapped the warm garment around her body and her feet moved briskly over the carpet and into the barren hallway. As the bedroom door fell shut behind her, Rawnie quickly worked her way down the various halls and stairways the house had to offer, mind set on a soothing glass of liquid that would surely melt all the memories of that dream away.

As bare feet reached the platform of the final case of steps the woman began to make her final turn toward the bar to her right, her hand already preparing to pour the whiskey she was so fond of. However, the distinct feeling of not being the only being around stopped her from giving into her urges and forced her limp body back around. She knew for a fact that the person she was to find wouldn't be the Count. Her instincts had already been trained to send her body into overdrive when the pale man was near her. Besides, after the visions she had woken up from Rawnie could imagine that she could feel out his aura from a mile away.

She entered the large arched doorway to her left to confront whoever it was that had disturbed her beeline quest for the bar. Popping her head to the side slightly to remove a piece of poorly angled hair from her view the gypsy was suddenly returned to the sensual state of mind she had forced out of her mind upstairs.

It was no secret that Gabriel Van Helsing was an attractive man in both personality and physical perspectives. His finely sculpted features, thick locks, and constant state of five o'clock shadow was a welcomed sight for any single woman out on her own. Luckily at the moment his attention was focused elsewhere and gave the woman's deep brown eyes a moment to take in the pleasing image she was offered. The usual weighty leather coat he was accustom to wearing was gone, resting on some piece of furniture off to the side, finally allowing the female gaze to map out the lines of his formed muscles from beneath the brown vest and tattered sweater. His body type was that of perfection in the eyes of scholars. Broad shoulders and strong chest slimed down into a slender waist and powerful legs. Up top, his hair twisted at the ends and poured over his shoulders as his intense eyes glared out at the large painted map in front of him. Below, his booted feet were parted at shoulder width and stamped hard into the floor while his ungloved hand gripped the top of a crystal glass that swirled around the assumed liquor inside.

"Lost?" she finally spoke up, sure to cover her voice in the normal sarcasm she threw at the Roman. Sexual tension was not something that needed to be shown through words.

Van Helsing looked up when her voice filtered through his concentration. Though his face continued to hold that seriousness that he wore so often, the woman's skimpy state did not escape his notice. The off-white robe did nothing to extenuate her form though it did off a healthy glimpse of her bare legs by the way it fell open in front of her. The large top she wore beneath was long enough to hide what needed to remain unseen, but the collar intended to grip the neck had long ago lost its elasticity and drooped down the front of her chest. Her hair was a tangled mass atop her head and still managed to hold a curious amount of appeal. It was an…exhilarating sight to say the least.

"It certainly seems that way at times," the man finally answered and tore his eyes away from Rawnie and back toward the map that flooded the wall. The slight sound of the queens bare footsteps over the wood signified the closeness the two were about the experience, but Gabriel managed to remain calmly staring at the wall with a slight grin.

"Well, as of now you're here," the Valerious stabbed a finger on the map in their general location, then slipped it over toward the northwest side, toward Rome, "in a short time, you will be here."

"Awfully confident that this will get sorted out, aren't you?"

"I have no intention of planning my future around this ordeal, Gabriel."

"And if things don't work out as you hope?" he asked and lifted his glass to take another sip. However, Rawnie snatched the drink from his hand and brought it to her own lips before downing the rest of the contents.

"Then I'll deal with it when the time comes." With that, she snuck the glass back into his hand before turning her back on him and moving her way back through the arched door towards her original destination. Van Helsing immediately followed.

"So, pray tell my dear Ms. Valerious, what has you up at…" he paused and looked at his time piece, "2:36 am?"

"I could ask you the same," her words echoed as she entered the larger room and slipped back behind the bar, instantly grabbing for a cool bottle.

"I don't find myself sleeping much these days," he sighed and absently glanced toward the floor, down into the depths of the holding cell below. The look that appeared on Rawnie's face instantly told him that she knew what he was hinting at.

"Oh, good. Knowing you're up most of the time makes me feel better about sleeping the vast majority of the night."

"Good to know you share my sympathies," Van Helsing mumbled and slipped onto one of the tall stools that wrapped around the bar. Unexpectedly, the tired woman had no sharp response for his comment and instead busied herself with the task of drinking the glass dry of all contents in a record time. As soon as there was nothing but glass to touch her tongue, the bottle once again clanged with the glass and refilled the vacant space. Van Helsing watched with mild interest.

"Bad dream?"

Rawnie only glared at him between gulps.

"You surely can't expect to get a good sleep with that thing down there," the man mumbled, causing her to stop her consuming for an instant, "His strength does not only lie in his muscles."

"I know," she stated plainly before taking another sip.

"You apparently have some connection to him, which will only make him stronger."

"I know."

"Even a familiarity with him can be dangerous."

"Mmhmm."

"Anna was-"

The moment the name passed his lips, the heavy glass thudded down on the shiny bar top with a clenching hand still wrapped tightly around it. Lips tightened in irritation from both parties and the tension quickly took a hard left from sexual to angry. Rawnie just found it wonderful that she could hardly have a conversation with the man who was going to save her without lashing out at his throat.

"I'm not Anna."

A pause.

"Ms. Valerious-"

"Rawnie."

"Yes…I apologize," he said quietly while taking a small drink form the bottle she had discarded. Rawnie grunted.

"No you're not. You're simply trying to smooth things out."

"And what else am I suppose to do? Do you want to have another screaming match, Rawnie? God knows I'm up for it."

Grabbing the bottle back into her possession quickly, the gypsy turned sharply and moved out from behind the bar before retreating into the other room, choosing the less violent path for this argument. From behind, she could feel Gabriel glaring at her back as she tipped the liquor up and drained it down her throat. Though the sound of her chugging she could distinctly hear the rattle of the barstool being dismounted and the heavy boots of the Roman following her closely.

"Stalker," she spat.

"You have to stop being so damn difficult. Stop acting like this is all under control and that there's nothing to worry about," at this point, Van Helsing hand the woman's stiff shoulders in his hands and forced the bottle away from her eager mouth. "Everything's not fine and it won't be fixed easily. Stop pretending this is a game, Rawnie. This is not another bump in your road."

"Would you rather me panic? Run out into the streets hungry for revenge, Gabriel? Would you rather me pace back and forth like a lunatic all day? Would you prefer me to be more like Anna, Gabriel?"

The man reared back for a moment at the verbal hit but held her shoulders strongly.

"Anna died defending what you shrug off," he hissed in retaliation, his anger finally beginning to bubble to the surface. Rawnie gave a slightly bitter chuckle before raising the alcohol back to her lips and shoving herself away from the warrior.

"Ah, yes, 'round and 'round we go with this conversation. I'm sure you know how much easier this would all be if dear, sweet Anna were here to give you words of inspiration, wouldn't it? Being by someone who fights for a noble cause and not for the utter right to live is much more 'deep' isn't it?" she paused and wiped away a droplet of amber liquid on the corner of her mouth, "I'm tired of you silently blaming me for this situation. I'm not the one that's making it difficult, Helsing."

"I've never blamed you for any of this, Rawnie."

"Oh, horseshit!" she screeched, face reddening form the anger. "I've heard you talk to Carl, yourself…walls! If I had been here, I couldn't been me instead, right? Correct, sir? Or, hey, I could have saved her, couldn't I? Save you all this grief?"

Another gulp.

"It could have been possible for you to be of some help," he stated calmly while the woman unleashed the rage that was slowly being squeezed out of her by the strong liquor.

"Yes, I suppose you could think of it that way, but hey," she paused and gave a small chuckle, "I'm not the one that killed her, am I Gabriel?"

A deep quiet settled over the wide room and the irritated smile disappeared from Van Helsings face slowly. The aura of the conversation went to angry to a dormant sadness and guilt. Rawnie knew the story of how her sister had met her end, she had been informed that no one was directly at fault. However, her inebriated mind worked to find a hit that would cause Gabriel to back off, and she unfortunately succeeded. Though the grief that was filtering through the room was entirely the mans, the guilt seeped from the woman like sweat.

"I…" she started and raised her empty hand to her forehead. She closed her eyes tightly for a moment or two, bringing her rational thoughts to the surface. "I didn't mean it like that…"

She hadn't expected immediate forgiveness. Gabriel only gave a brisk nod of his head, unreadable eyes still tracing her own uncertain ones.

It seemed as if the two stood in the room in silence for hours, together but as alone as ever. It was no secret that deep down neither like the other very much. He was too set on the business of the day and the past. She busied herself with her relations with vampires and how much time she would get in the day to drown herself in the glorious liquor stashed around the house. Finally the serenity was broken by the scrapping sound of the bottle in Rawnie's hand being placed on an end table. Van Helsing turned his head to the side, popped his jaw to himself, and inhaled deeply. This was an awkwardness they had not planned on dealing with.

"I'm going to bed," he mumbled and slowly turned from the woman who stood there in all her disarrayed glory. Before his boots made it across the threshold of the doorway, the Queen made a small noise in the back of her throat that caused him to jerk his head back her way with weary eyes. Her mouth popped open and shut a few times before actual words began to take shape.

"I'm sorry. I don't think that you-"

"I know," he interrupted with a small yet emotional bruised smile on his handsome face. "Goodnight, Rawnie."

* * *

The clock upstairs chimed for the second time since Rawnie had retreated down the stairs and tunnels of the basement and outside of the cell that contained the man…thing, that she had been cursed with. Her mind reached into memory and finally figured it was most likely four o'clock in the morning. Not that it made any difference, her body was far from wanting sleep. For some reason the cool, rough feeling of the stone below and behind her felt more inviting on her body than anything a bed could offer. 

She wasn't sure why she came to the conclusion that she needed to be down in the dungeon, if anyone upstairs were to find her in such close vicinity to Dracula she would be given a firm slap to knock her back into good sense. Luckily there was no sign of any life wandering around the manor except for her. Even the warrior from Rome was heard snoring through the thick door of his chambers. Now it was only Rawnie still walking about.

Rawnie and Dracula.

She couldn't see him; she didn't dare open the door and peek in on her prisoner, but she could feel him…hear him even. She knew he was awake, sitting up and staring at the door that separating him from the outside…from her. She knew he was burning holes in that strong wood door with his startling eyes, because for the vast majority of the time that she had been down there, her own eyes had been doing the same. They strained and worked as if trying to look through the door. She knew it was a battle she would never win…though she wasn't sure about him.

He knew she was out there. He knew that her hands that played along the stone floor would sometimes reach out over the dirt in an attempt to get closer to the door. His keen ears could hear her labored breath as she tried to convince herself to go back upstairs. He could hear her convince herself otherwise.

Again, the clock chimed.

Five o'clock.

Rawnie's knees were pulled up toward her chest and her arms were wrapped around, holding the thin robe in place. Grains of dust and gravel mixed in her hair when she rested her head back against the wall lazily. Her body was now aching for a bed and a comfortable mattress, but her eyes were firmly locked onto the bolted door to her right. He was still paying desperate attention to her. Every so often she could hear the chains inside rattle about, giving the sign that he was as restless as she felt.

"Rawnie."

The sound of the slick voice vibrating through the stone walls made the woman jump slightly. She knew it was not Van Helsings, it was far too smooth. It wasn't Charlie's, it was too sensual. It had to be…

"Dracula," she whispered hoarsely, and was answered with a deep chuckle.

"My dear, Rawnie," the vampire hissed out again, "Why do you keep yourself so distant from me?"

As he spoke, the woman slowly inched herself up from her sitting position and stood leaning against the wall, hands splayed out on the stone harshly. Slowly, hesitantly, her feet moved across the dirt and grime, closer and closer to the door. On the other side, the pale man moved from sitting to stand upright, hands limp at his sides. He could feel the heat from her flow over him as she approached the door, that feeble door that could easily be snap in two if not for his damned chains. A low growl escaped his mouth when the sound of his restraints clanked echoed as he moved forward.

Outside, she could also hear the sharp sounds as the monster inside attempted to pull from the wall. Rawnie placed her hands against the cold door and inhaled deeply. Her nails seemed to instinctively claw carefully into the barring wood that separated her from what she feared and needed at the same time. Again, a heavy sound reached her ears as the strong creature inside pulled at the strong chains holding him, his anger now coming through in his voice.

"Open the door, Rawnie," he called out in a near desperate tone that did not fit his voice at all.

She began panting. Her hand ached to reach for the latch that would so easily and quickly remedy this door problem, but something held her back. It was wrong. It was wrong for her to be down there, wrong for her to be throwing herself against the door, wrong to be aching for the beast that waiting inside for her. It was so wrong…so sinful.

"I am a sinner," she mumbled to herself matter-of-factly. The alcohol on her breath, the sweat and satin dreams she had, the lack of church…Her shoulder suddenly gave a sharp throb, jolting her body roughly. Rawnie gripped onto the scar tightly hoping the pressure would somehow chase the odd pain away. Again, a throb. As if sensing the strange happenings outside, Dracula gave another hard yank on the chains with a feral sound, bringing the walls of the cell to shake unsteadily. Warmth began to grow under her fingers as blood pumped to the scar wildly and a small groan of discomfort parted her lips.

'_You are a sinner_,' a voice in the back of her mind agreed, the syllables in each words pounding out through the scar. The wrinkled, female voice spoke out again, '_You're as cold as we are_.'

"Cold as we are…" the gypsy whispered, the grip around her shoulder loosening. In an instant it was as if her body had caught on to the fact that she was lacking sleep and her eyes began to drift close as she stood leaning against the door.

"Rawnie!" the near angry voice from inside the room screamed out, interrupting her retreat into slumber. Her first instinct was to fear the fearsome sound coming from the creature, but her brain told her otherwise. Just as her eyes popped back open from the momentary tired spell, the heat seemed to melt away from her shoulder, and the throbbing dulled as if it were being smothered by the cold energy leaking out from under the door in front of her.

"What are…" she started and faded out as the Counts voice penetrated once more.

"Open the door, Rawnie."

"What are you doing to me?" the woman hissed terribly as another roll of pain came over her body and once more sent her to the filthy floor below, knees scraping painfully on the hard surface.

"Ouvrez la porte!" he screamed in a French tongue, hoping that the language she had been accustom to for years would bring her around.

"Ouvrez la porte…" she repeated in a dream-like state. Her body was again racked with pain and her mind assaulted with viscous whispers from the dry voice that contrasted terribly with the silky voice that had accompanied the pain in the past.

A terrible roaring shriek pounded out from the cell and again the sounds and pain were pushed away, if only for a moment.

The instant her body was released from its personal prison, Rawnie reached up and jerked at the handle of the heavy door shoving herself to her trembling legs and sending the door open with such a force bits of loose material drifted to the floor. Inside the sight of the Count standing tensely against taught chains, tangled hair splayed over his face, and eyes dully radiating from beneath. The seconds that passed as they stared at each other seemed to pass by all too fast, for once her weak eyes fluttered shut and open, Rawnie could feel the unknown forces in her body lurching forward once more, struggling to get to the surface of Dracula's temporary relief.

'What are you doing?' the woman's own subconscious mumbled, a break from the confusion that came with the strange voices, 'Run, run back upstairs. Van Helsing has to be awake from the screams. He will know what to do.'

"Really?" she asked herself aloud, gaining nothing but an empty and awaiting stare from the vampire.

'He will think you've lost your mind if he were to find you in the arms of this monster,' the voice reasoned, 'What good could come from this? For all you know, that beast is the one causing this pain.'

"Rawnie," the pale man burst in on her thoughts and struggled to reach out to her, "Come."

'He can't help you,' she told herself before her mind was thrown roughly to the side by the streak of pain flashing over her eyes. She stumbled forwards slightly, arms stretched out to the side to keep her balance from leaving her. Only mere feet away now. She could tell herself all night that no good would come from this, this wouldn't help anything, she was just being selfish…But, every now and then she would catch glimpses of Van Helsing saying 'Anna wouldn't have done that'. She would see her fathers face after he put her on the carriage to France with that nearly disappointed expression he bore that she never understood. She would picture her mothers crying face as she stood in the doorway, gripping at hem of her sleeve tightly. Suddenly she could remember what she had felt for the past ten years.

She wasn't a Valerious. Not anymore.

She wasn't Anna. She never would be.

She would never be what anyone wanted her to be, and no one would ever know why that was.

Except for…perhaps this monster in front of her. This creature that took everything she didn't have and pined for so long. Yet…possibly the only being alive that knew solitude as well as she did…the only being that she had any live connection with.

With that last thought, her knees buckled and Rawnie fell into the waiting arms of the Count who quickly pulled her up to his height. She was as limp as a rag doll in his lean arms, but her wide eyes and unsure expression told that she was anything but unaware. He knew she was not oblivious to the fact that she was unarmed and undefended in his arms. She knew that any moment he could tear her throat out and be done with it. She had recklessly thrown her life in his wicked hands.

Upstairs, the heavy thump of Gabriels boots rang out clear in the vampires keen ears. The man was aware of some sort of strange happenings below. Though his life was not in danger, the Count did not look forward to the hail of bullets he was sure to receive if he was caught with the limp gypsy in his arms. However, the power the tickled at the back of his mind and the tightened grip of the woman on his jacket sleeve signaled that there were things to be tended to.

Quickly tearing away the layers of cloth that covered the offending area along woman's shoulder, Dracula ran his chilled fingers along the smooth bump of the scar, feeling its heat rush off the flesh like an internal flame that was threatening to burn her from the inside out.

"It will only be temporary," he whispered huskily, struggling to keep his primal urges down to a controlled level. If Rawnie heard his or not was unknown, because the moment the words passed his lips her body stiffened from the agony that again tackled her, and then…

Nothing.

She felt absolutely nothing. All she could see was the moist wall of the prison, all she could hear was the echo of someone speaking in the far off distance, and all she could smell was the bitter yet refreshing scent of the Counts hair as it brushed along the side of her face. It was like a pressure was being lifted from her slowly, inch by inch. The heat began to melt away and was replaced with the familiar cool the had drifted from the creature that was now holding her tightly. The taunting words that had filled her head only seconds ago were being filtered away and out of her mind, leaving only her thoughts to roam. The strange affliction ceased to abuse her body and her fingers were able to release the soft material of Dracula's clothing. And then, she knew.

With all the distraction of the 'curse' gone, she was able to concentrate on what was happening in the present. She was then aware that the vampire was currently latched onto her shoulder, his fangs clinched tightly down on the scar that had been nothing but trouble for her for so long. Her animal instinct was the panic, to struggle and jerk away from the carnivore like threat. Though strangely enough, a warmth mixed with the chill of her new temperature created a soothing effect, evaporating all of her fears and allowing her eyes to drop closed. The dead mans hands gripped at the back of her robe, keeping her body pressed depressingly close to his own as his jaw muscles worked fiercely to drain the clump of dead flesh of its liquid.

It was disgusting on his tongue. The sweet, yet sour taste of blood never met his senses, instead only the shocking and vile substance that could not be identified. It poured from the scar like a vast well and down his throat where it would be left to fester in his insides. Drops crept out from the sides of his lips and dribbled down Rawnies weak garments, staining them hopelessly. The last ounces were coming, he could feel it. He could feel the tension in her body slipping away and the minor case of possession being washed into the back of her subconscious for the time being.

But it would be back. Until the ordeal was completely resolved, it would be back to haunt the Valerious again.

"Hands off," a deep, menacing voice floated into the room and forced the vampires eyes, as well as the woman's, eyes open. Standing in slight disarray, lacking the usual sweater and gun hoister stood Gabriel Van Helsing, arm out at length pointing pistol at the forehead of the momentarily helpful Count. The still drinking creature only gave a muffled hiss in response and slowly walked backwards, pulling the weak woman with him.

"Now," Van Helsing growled and cocked the weapon as he followed the Count across the room before shoving the barrel against the vampires cranium. The two males had a violent argument with their eyes before one of them made the next move. Dracula removed his jaws from Rawnie's shoulder and spat out the extra bits of dark substance onto the floor. The warrior gave a baffled look at the strange sight. He expected gushing blood…not this, stuff. Though odd, it still did not change the fact that the woman was motionless in the 'monsters' arms and Gabriel slowly began to squeeze the trigger.

A hand shot up and grabbed the pistol barrel.

"Stop…" an exhausted voice suddenly piped up and brought both men to gaze down at the female. Van Helsing reached for her. The Count pulled her away, almost like a child who's favorite toy was being threatened. The chains hindered any small movements that he could have made, but Dracula was able to gently help the woman gain her own balance, all the while glaring over at the Roman who still stood with the gun pointed toward the ceiling.

"What did you do?" the armed man accused and quickly held out an arm as Rawnie stood on her own two legs, wobbling back and forth like a newborn foal.

"He didn't…" she started and tried again to form her words properly, "He didn't do…anything. He…"

Gravity pulled at her arms and began to tug her down toward the hard ground, refusing to allow her any form of adult walking skills back just yet. Though her already bleeding knees could have been subject to more pain, Rawnie reached out and grasped at the arms of both men, who both instinctively brought themselves closer to her to act as a crutch. Instantly the two men locked eyes once more. Van Helsing had a look of pure hatred etched on his handsome features. Dracula had a countenance of near amusement toward the bitter man.

Though both had a clear glaze in their eyes that they threw at each other wildly. A look that clearly said the other was touching something he should not.

As if to interrupt the silent war, Rawnie tilted her head from side to side, popping her neck a few times as if she had just awoken from a long nap.

"I need a drink."


	11. The Story and the Questions

Chapter Eleven: The Story and the Questions

"Dear Lord, this is _disgusting_."

"At least you didn't have to see it spat on the floor," Van Helsing noted as he watched Rawnie Valerious clean around the puncture marks along her shoulder. Small amounts of the greasy black substance would ooze from the wound every now and again, forcing a squeamish look to appear on the faces of all those who would watch.

Charlie was off in another room, fussing over his idea of putting a lock on Rawnie's room during the evenings so this couldn't happen again, while a few of the maids and menservants attempted to calm him into standing still. Carl bounced back and forth between the two rooms, quizzing the woman on what had happened part of the time and nodding passively with Charlie the other half while the other two squeezed around the scar to force more 'puss' out. Though anyone doubted it could rightfully be called that. Red on the other hand was sitting politely in a corner, fiddling with his hands that were clasped on his lap. It was anyone's guess why he was there, but it was nice to know he cared about the situation enough to come inside for the event.

Gabriel Van Helsing was placed on a small footstool next to the large armchair that held the gypsy, his hands filled with rags and alcohol to clean the wound. Though his hair and clothing no longer held the disarray it did in the early morning, the bags growing beneath his eyes told that his mind was still messed.

He was confused beyond belief. Waking up from a restless sleep to find the woman he was protecting in the arms of a monster who, apparently, was only helping her uncomfortable dilemma involving the scar. Helping. That word seemed to shudder at the thought of being in the same sentence as Dracula. It wasn't right. Something wasn't right about the ordeal. The vampire was not what one would call a good Samaritan. However, Rawnie, who wanted to hear none of it at the moment, cut all conversation about his motives short.

"Let me tend to my own wounds and go get some sleep," said woman commented suddenly and pushed away the mans hand from her bare skin, "In your current state your healing touch is moving to far south for my tastes."

Her face was plain when she spoke, but Gabriel's immediately twisted with a small amount of embarrassment. Truly his thoughts were pulling at his concentration as well at his hand. A gruff chuckle of apology was noted though he made no move to leave the room.

"My absence won't bring anything but you wandering down to the cellar again."

"God forbid!" Charlie shrieked from the other room momentarily listening in on the others conversation.

"Your presence won't do much to hinder me either, Van Helsing," Rawnie glared and rolled her sore shoulder, forcing his hand away. "I intend to talk to him about this…" again she paused and gestured her head toward her odd marks, "Issue."

"I don't understand why you're so set on being civil to that thing," the warrior remarked and stood from the small stool to plop down in the matching armchair across from the woman.

"I don't understand why you're so stubborn about it. He's here, we can get some answers from him now, and filling his head with holes isn't going to get us anywhere."

"She is right, you know," Carl whispered from the doorway, earning an annoyed glance from his friend. Rawnie grinned in satisfaction and pushed her clothing back up over her shoulder, concealing the scar from the world once more. "Dracula could give us some hint about what's going on."

Van Helsing groaned and rubbed a large hand down his poorly shaven face, allowing his eyes to fall closed for a moment or two. Speaking to the vampire in a pleasant and constructive manner didn't set well with him. Such a being needed to be dealt with properly…with the assistance of bullets, arrows, and blades. Words were something that Vladislaus could twist and turn to his own advantage and make his enemy see the benefits of doing things his way. Of course, he heard once that the best way to beat your enemy is to understand it. Although, understanding wasn't something he generally applied well.

"Alright, Ms. Valerious," he immediately corrected himself, "Rawnie. We do need answers. So, before we travel into the mind of the Count, lets begin with you."

"Me?" the woman quirked a brow.

"Your scar…how did you come to possess such a horrid mark?" Carl gave the question fro Van Helsing, leaving the older man to stare at the gypsy curiously.

Rawnie took to shifting in her chair from hesitation. Her crossed legs came apart and then together again swiftly as her eyes darted back and forth across the room. Through the doorway, Charlie had stopped his banter and had finally come to rest. He had heard this story before. He had listened as the woman retold it after nightmares rampaged through her sleep. Charles had heard the story and his love for it never grew. He hated it.

"Well…" she breathed in deeply and tapped her ungloved fingers on the arms of the chair. Inside her mouth, her teeth chewed carefully at the inside of her cheeks in nervousness. She had a feeling the story would not bring good reviews from the audience. "It was given to me by Verona."

"Oh, good Lord you're a vampire," Carl squeaked and quickly backed into the wall. Rawnie and Gabriel only looked at him as if he were speaking in tongues, then moved their eyes in unison toward the open window, pouring sunshine into the room. Carl awkwardly righted himself, his face filling with blood. "G-Go on."

"I was a little girl," she began, resting her head back against the cushion of the chair to prepare for the telling. Suddenly she felt like one of the storytellers outside entertaining the children, "Velkan was still a baby and Anna was nothing but a far off dream. This was back before the 'war' became the serious ordeal it is today."

"You never truly knew Velkan either, did you?" Gabriel quickly asked.

"At least I knew of him," she answered with a bitter tone, but continued, "The brides were attacking the village. I don't remember why really…it wasn't a feeding. They were just attacking people at random, that's what I remember…being surrounded by screams and frightened faces. I got separated from my mother. I ran all around the village but I couldn't find her, my father, or even the manor…so I ran on. My father told me to run towards the forest if I was ever pursued by a vampire. He said they had problems maneuvering through trees."

She stopped and gave a small snort thinking about her earlier experience with vampires in trees. It was a nice theory her father had anyway.

"I took off into the forest with no idea of where the hell I was going. I was small, so I couldn't have gained much ground though it felt like I had ran for miles. Then, of course, I fell," she squinted her eyes, her mind shooting toward the discomforting flashbacks she had been plagued with during her encounter with the Count in the village. "When I got up, there was a woman beside me. She was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my life. I could still hear the screams and such in the village but with the woman next to me I felt…I felt like it was alright."

"Verona," Van Helsing murmured. She nodded.

"I had never seen a bride in a form like that, so I didn't know who I was clinging onto. All I knew is that she made me feel safe. Genuinely safe. Though in the back of my mind I felt something saying that it was wrong, this was wrong, this was all wrong. This woman wasn't to be trusted…but, I looked at her as she held me and I felt better than I'd ever felt at home. I was young but I knew that feeling that way was wrong, so I started to cry. She tried to calm me down but I just latched onto her and cried harder. Then I heard my father calling.

"I screamed out to him even though I didn't want to. I didn't want to be rescued; I wanted to be left alone with this woman. At that moment, I never wanted to see my family again. After that, I was up in the air and the woman changed into what I was familiar with seeing. The white, frightening, yet beautiful creatures that tore apart our village as a past time. Still I cried and still I wanted to remain with her."

"Vampires are masters of mind manipulation," Carl offered as comfort, though the larger man in the chair sent a look that told otherwise. Verona wasn't that powerful. The Valerious ignored them and continued.

"My father and villagers were beneath us. There were weapons being fired up toward us, though Verona always managed to slip away in one direction or another. For some reason, she couldn't fly away…" an image slipped through her mind of being in the arms of Dracula that overcast day in the square. She remembered how Gabriel's weapon yanked him downward. "There was a rope or something…something wrapped around her leg. She tried to tear it off several times but it was either that or dodge the oncoming danger the villagers were throwing at her so…Then, I think, someone got over zealous and pulled at the rope that was holding her."

Rawnie sat up in the chair a little, using her hands to illustrate what she was about to attempt to describe.

"The rope jerked her downward as she screamed at my father for firing a pistol toward her. As she jerked down, I jerked up…" again she paused and her face gave a small smile while her hand gave a precise gesture, "It was perfect. Almost as if it were fate that made the situation. She was in the perfect spot, I was being held just right, and my father did just the wrong thing to cause her to scream. It was absolutely perfect."

"She bit you," Carl said plainly from the corner.

"She bit me," the woman groaned, "Nearly the second it happened she pulled away and stared at me. I stared at her for what seemed like hours. Again, I was young, I didn't know many things about these vampires or why they did this to us but for some reason I could read her like a book. Her face was different, her eyes were strange…then I knew. I knew she hadn't meant to do that. I knew it wasn't her intention, she hadn't meant to hurt me. After that I started to cry again because again I knew what I was thinking wasn't right. Vampires were suppose to hurt people, they were suppose to want to hurt us…right?" she asked herself, face contorted in pure confusion at her life.

"I screamed again and she dropped me. Afterward she clawed away the rope and flew off," she shrugged, "For the months after that, the brides only attack the village once or twice but…I never saw Verona again."

For many minutes after the finale of the story, the room was silent. Charlie stared out the window in the other room just as he was suppose to when this story was told. The housemaids had long retreated from the area deciding that this was none of their business. Though they were sure they wouldn't want to hear of it even if it were. Carl fidgeted in his corner, arms folded tightly over his chest with frustration as his mind turned over and over inside his head searching for anything useful to say. Red, who had been quiet the whole while, simply stared.

"That would explain the connection," Van Helsing whispered to himself and threw one leg across the other limply. His teeth stabbed at his bottom lip lightly in thought of what had just been given to him. It would seem that vampires were not what everyone thought them to be. Rawnie had spoken his exact thoughts; vampires were supposed to hurt people…right? They weren't compassionate beings that thought of others. They didn't care if people died from their actions. Vampires weren't capable of any form of love…right?

"And what did your parents do in response to all of this?"

Rawnie and Charlie stiffened at this question.

"Father wasn't the same afterward. He didn't look at me; he just looked at the wound. Speaking to me was like a chore for him. I remember hearing him and mother arguing constantly about something I didn't know about. Something that my father was apparently overreacting about. A few months later I was sent to France. I never saw either of my parents again."

"Why did they send you-"

"He never told me, no one did. I figured I was being punished for my thoughts toward Verona, though it was impossible for my father to know about them. He was a smart man but far from a mind reader."

"There had to be some reason," Carl mumbled, "Parents just don't send their children off for no reason."

"Oh, there was a reason. I apparently just wasn't worthy of hearing it. I never heard from my mother again, only my father and about his growing obsession with the vampires in his later years. He told me about Velkans accomplishments and learning, he told me of the poor cropping seasons in the village…he never told me of Anna. All those damn years and damn letters…you think that he would have forgotten once and let something slip about her," she laughed softly, "He was trying so hard to keep her a secret."

"Perhaps he did not want you to feel as if you were replaced," Gabriel noted.

"No," Rawnie glared, "No. Of course, telling me would instantly bring thoughts of being replaced but the way he hid her, the way he tried so hard to make sure I didn't know about her…" she faded for a moment, staring depressingly hard into the carpeted floor, "That did nothing but help fuel that fire. I was replaced. I was the one who for some reason failed and was sent off to live with an elderly woman who would die a few years later to leave me alone. Anna was back here living my life, being groomed in my place, aiding in the family war, as I should have been. She was the updated version of me. I was the one that was cut off."

Her downward tilted face heated with the force she was putting into keeping her bitter tears back. She needed to cry but not in front of these people. This wasn't the dignified Rawnie she needed the world to see. She was the Rawnie that was bitter toward her family and fine with it, not this sniveling baby who was hunched over in the chair. This wasn't who she was.

Gabriel opened his mouth momentarily to speak but he forced himself to shut it again. Was this the anger and frustration that kept this woman so strangled most of the time? She was furious with the world and all who walked it happily, he could see it now. She wasn't bitter simply toward her family, she was bitter toward everyone. Happiness was something that was ripped from her for a reason she was never given. She was a strange and lost woman, and child. Finding comfort and caring from creatures who murdered her fellow villagers in her childhood and adulthood, being tossed aside by an obsessive father, and replaced by a secret sister. Did Anna know of Rawnies existence? Did she allow her father to keep the older sibling oblivious to her? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know about the possible corruption of his Anna.

Now it made sense. Now he understood the anger that was thrown at him with every comparison he made, every word he spoke about what Anna would have done in the situation. He was now well informed on the emotional plague her mind had been under since she had arrived in Vaseria. Now, since the first time she lashed out at him for bringing Anna into the picture, he understood.

* * *

The mood turned strangely awkward when Seareinty arrived for a brief visit. Though the conversation of memories had been over for hours, there was still a faint feeling of depression floating around keeping the mistress of the manor silent during most of the older woman's stay. Charlie, however, made it his duty to entertain the guest with conversation about their growing battle with the wrong doers of the village. Van Helsing was the one who blurted out a lie about the strange noises coming from the basement. 'A dog,' he had said, 'Rawnie couldn't stand to leave it on the street.' He earned himself a slightly angry stare with that comment. Carl shared his feelings on what was going on and exchanged paranormal knowledge with the woman, learning more about the creatures he had been studying for some time.

Rawnie sat and stared. She stared at the carpet, at the wall, at the clock…she stared at every interesting piece of furniture in the room before she brought herself to look upon Seareinty. Though the elder was chatting it up whenever Charles or Carl had a question, the calm eyes always looked upon the Valerious with an…unnerving fashion to say the least. Though Seareinty was looking away, Rawnie knew that the attention was constantly on her. She was silently studying and measuring the younger woman as each minute passed. She asked how her stay was and if she would remain in Vaseria after all was said and done. She was also quick to question about their visit to Castle Frankenstein. Apparently it was the talk of the whole village. Van Helsing gave a brief summary of the being they spotted and the lizard they fought…though Rawnie had a feeling Seareinty had no interest in such things.

When the gypsy had first met the woman in France, she was filled with comfort and warmth with her presence. But now…now she was nervous. She could feel her palms grow moist with perspiration, her breaths were quick and calculated, and her mouth grew dryer by the second.

Seareinty hadn't been there twenty minutes before Rawnie quickly stood from her chair and excused herself from the room.

The old woman watched her retreat with an upturned face and suspicious eyes. Her fingers tapped along the finely pointed knee and her excellent posture straightened even more precisely. Charlie apologized for his friend and allowed Gabriel to feed an excuse to the graying woman.

"Probably going to check on the dog."

While Rawnie made her way through the maze of halls with her heels sharply stabbing down at the wood flooring, she gnashed her teeth at the seemingly innocent comment Van Helsing made. The conversation earlier seemed to have an impact on the Roman warrior for a brief hour or so but he did nothing to hold back the proof that he detested the idea of the vampire still being in the basement.

As her legs moved, the sound of Seareinty's voice grew farther away and the gypsy's mind began to calm. Her common sense told her that she was simply frazzled from letting the story of her past unfold earlier and that the suspicions of the nice old woman were nothing but foolishness. However, the quick movements of her heart and hand gripping securely onto the pistol at her side told her otherwise. It wasn't like her to be so nervous over something as simple as telling a story. Depressed and yearning for a taste of liquor, yes, but on edge, no.

Although when she suddenly found herself traveling down the stairway towards the dungeons below unconsciously, Rawnie had to doubt her gut feelings. Indeed, she was not herself these days.

"Bloody hell," she griped to herself and threw herself against the wall, feeling she needed the support. Her shoulder rolled slowly, stretching the wounds that lie beneath her jacket. Life was getting complicated.

"He's upset upset, lady," a voice suddenly sprang up from the dim light of the stone hallways. The said lady jumped instantly in surprise at the young voice to her right. Angry, anxious eyes darted over to the source of the interruption and groaned at the sight.

"Red…boy, what the hell are you doing down here?"

"Something's wrong wrong with him."

"Of course there is," Rawnie sighed and stepped away from the security of the wall, "He's a vampire."

"No, no," the red headed boy shook his head furiously, "Something's wrong wrong."

The woman narrowed her eyes in interest before sliding her feet across the floor and approaching the small male. His face was thin with sincerity and a lithe arm was drawn out behind him, a stick like finger jabbing towards the door at the end of the hall.

"What do you mean, Red?" she quickly asked and slowly pushed past him and made a cautious gate toward the cell.

"He's like like you, lady," the boy whispered and walked along side her for a few brief seconds before snatching up one of her gloved, shaking hands from the spot it gripped at her belt. The Valerious snapped her head back at him, lips thin with irritation. "Nervous, lady."

"Nervous," she stated rather than questioned before gently taking her hand back. A few yards ahead, the sound of chains whipping at the floor and walls forced all attention back towards the point of interest in her home. Black boots tapped along the floor with each step she took, bringing her closer and closer to the creature that now served as both dream and nightmare to her.

"Red," Rawnie murmured, "Go to the stables and check the mousetraps, will you? He must be hungry."

Red nodded in agreement and scampered off down the hall, leaving the woman alone with the thick door once more for the second time in two days. Vermin blood couldn't be the best to sustain the health of such a creature, but Rawnie couldn't imagine that Gabriel would be thrilled with her tossing in townspeople to feed her 'pet' vampire. So, trusting Red with the task, the woman pulled open the door slightly, the fear she had felt before never making itself present.

"Dra-" she started, voice hoarse with tension. Her throat was cleared before she continued to speak his name. "Dracula?"

A loud hiss was heard inside the room as the word passed her lips. The strong wood of the door moaned as it was pulled farther ajar, letting the stale air of the cell rush into her face. Inside, the man was standing to one side, arms tight against the force of the chains that bound him. Those pale hands that Rawnie felt so familiar with gripped at the links, apparently creating another attempt to break free of his prison. The bench that served as his only piece of furniture was tossed to the wall, splinters littering the ground at her feet as she entered the room. It was strange walking in and not receiving the attention from the pale man she had experienced in the past. His face, though covered by the mop of black hair, made no move to turn in her direction. Those crisp eyes were locked on the job at hand and never glanced in her direction. Though she was positive that he knew of her presence.

"What's the matter?" Rawnie finally spoke out, allowing the door to fall shut behind her. The vampire only shifted the angle he was tugging at. His motions were spastic and drastic. Red was correct. He was nervous…frightened even. As the woman took another step she absentmindedly noticed the weight of her pistols hanging at her sides were still noticeable. So, not completely alone…

"These are secure," she said gesturing toward the chains, "Van Helsing made sure of that." The mention of the Romans name forced Dracula to glance in her direction.

"Does he fear I will lay a hand on his property?" the creature finally blurted out, the sound of his voice nearly startling the woman.

"He has no property here," she retaliated and gave a small glare towards the upstairs levels. As her eyes rolled back down to her current level, she took note of the wild look that had reappeared in the Counts eyes. "I was under the impression you were past all this."

"Do not live under the assumption that one taste of your flesh leaves me satisfied with my current…living conditions," he spat, earning the common glare from Rawnie.

"I made no assumption of that manner," she replied and flicked her head towards the door, "Red was right, you're nervous. Why?"

"You should learn to believe the words of more intellectual people, dear Rawnie," Dracula tilted his head in her direction, his eyes not ignorant to the effect him speaking her name was having on her already unstable senses.

"I'll file that advice away, thank you," she took in a deep breath, "But you haven't answered my question."

With that, Dracula seemed to loose interest in his failing escape attempt and began the short trek across the room toward Rawnie. Why her body failed to comprehend the situation and go toward the obvious route leading to the door, she didn't know. Instead she backed farther from the portal of escape and into the opposite wall, hand ripping a single pistol from its holster. Shooting the oncoming monster would do no good, she realized, but it would make her feel better if she felt she had tried to stop the attack before her death.

The shot fired off, echoing in the damp expansion of the cellar, surely reaching the upper levels where Van Helsing sat entertaining her guest. What explanation he would cook up for it, she couldn't guess, but she was sure within minutes his loud boots would be heard thumping down the stairs. Coming to rescue the damsel in distress she supposed. However, at the moment there was no warrior bounding toward the room to save her.

A few feet away and still making a strong line toward her, Dracula reared back momentarily as the bullet slashed through his chest and back to bury itself in the wall behind. No blood spurted forward from the wound to stain the floor, there was only the sharp intake of breath and the gnashing of teeth coming from the vampire to show any sign of the bullets impact. It brought him pain, but it in no way slowed him down. Before the twin firearm could be brought forth, the panting Dracula planted himself in front of the woman, placing his thin yet strong arms against the wall on either side of her head.

"You're gratitude is lacking," he hissed into her face, the long tendrils of ebony hair flapping against her cheeks. The clatter of the gun falling to the ground did nothing to draw the Counts attention away from Rawnie's figure, which was now plastered against the wall. The chains that bound his wrists slide up and down her thigh with every labored breath he made, making her position all the more difficult to be in.

Slowly, one of his limber hands traveled over the rough wall and toward the shoulder his mouth was locked onto not twenty-four hours ago. His fingers brushed over the strained flesh of her neck before latching onto the stiff cloth of the jacket collar. It was pulled back sharply, just as the limp cloth of her sleeping shirt was, before revealing the still fresh wound to his eyes. Rawnie's eyes slammed shut as the strangely cool breath of the vampire swam over her skin. Her hands, which were previously laying flat against the wall, were now balled into tight fists, resisting the urge to run them up the male's chest that was so close to her own. That wanting became a need as the soft raking of the Counts teeth was felt over the reddened area, forcing a small sound to croak from the woman's throat. She, of course, told herself it was from the sharp jolt of pain it brought.

Her muddy eyes cracked themselves open, rolling back and forth as if looking for an escape from this…attention. However, all her eyes were met with was the unruly mass of hair that tumbled over Dracula's shoulders in thick clusters. As if to take her mind from the matter at hand, Rawnie's hand moved to her belt once more passing over the sword and pistol. Instead her hand found its place of interest in the small compartment filled with various trinkets that she felt the need to carry with her. Her long fingers did not have to search long to find the item she was looking for.

It was strange how she had forgotten about it until this moment, but she supposed it needed to be put to good use. So, lifting it slowly, Rawnie unlatched its clasp and rolled it over in her palm. Before it could reach its destination at the back of the Counts head, his unoccupied hand wrapped itself around her wrist.

"Where did you get this?" his voice demanded from the place his face had found a home in the crook of her neck. He raised his head to meet up with hers once more, eyes moving from her face to the clip that resided in her hand.

"W-why are you so nervous?" she countered, knowing full well she wouldn't get an answer. The rolling growl that vibrated from his chest proved her to be correct. "Castle Frankenstein."

"You have had it in your possession this whole time?" he asked, eyes now locked upon the hairpiece and his hand moving from her wrist to snatch it away from her fingers.

"Yes…" the Queen whispered, watching him twirl it about in his own hand. "It was with an earring."

"Your gratitude may leave something to be desired, dear Rawnie, but your unintentional collecting does not," he grumbled.

"Why is it so important?" she quizzed, "The earring, is that as important?"

Dracula ignored her questions as he ran a callused thumb over the fine crafting of the hair clip now in his possession. Now he knew why the voice in the back of his mind left him. The pressure he felt in his temples no longer bothered him to follow orders as they were shouted out. No longer did he feel like a puppet on the end of harsh strings. Instead, there was the rush of freedom and calm that he had been without for centuries.

"Why is there-" the woman began again but was forced to be silenced with three lengthy fingers pressed down over her mouth. Again, Rawnie retracted back to a hesitant state and reminded what she was cornered by. However, the words that sent her mind turning once more held no ill will or malice in them. Simply curiosity.

"Dear Rawnie…what all do you know of voodoo?"

* * *

**REEEEEVVVVIIIIIEEEWWWW!**


	12. An Explanation

Chapter Twelve: An Explanation

"Voodoo?" Rawnie whispered slowly against the Counts cold fingers which were still hovering over her lips.

BOOM! The wall beside them was torn apart by the heavy hitting shot of a powerful rifle held along Van Helsings shoulder as he stomped into the room. Dracula twisted his head around to greet the newcomer with a dreadful shriek while the woman slipped out from around his confining arms to stop the building confrontation between the two men. Van Helsing perked up a brow at her quick response, his mind throwing out the her being under his control theory. Before he could snap a word out, Rawnie slapped his weapon aside, eyes dark with determination.

"Enough," she hissed in his face, her quick breaths blowing back a few strands of his dirty hair. Switching her attention once more, she thrust her hand out toward the vampire and the object he still held in his hand. "What about voodoo? What, exactly, is so damn important about THAT?"

"Voodoo?" Gabriel murmured behind her raising the shotgun up so it was positioned in both hands again.

Vladislaus did nothing but give a condescending smirk before shifting his body away from her. Rawnie would have none of that. Coming at him with the same ferocity she showed the Roman, she grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back around, allowing herself to forget who she was pushing on for the time being.

The vampire gnashed his teeth, Helsing cocked the rifle, and Rawnie tightened her jaw.

"I need to know what you know," she spoke evenly though hesitantly, "I imagine you know it's rather important."

"I have been given no incentive to pass my knowledge to you."

"Fine," the man with the weapon spoke and took aim. Rawnie quickly flicked a hand up in irritation at the man, signaling to stop.

"What…incentive, do you need?" she questioned. The protective Van Helsing behind her stiffened and awaited the response.

Dracula tilted his head to the side as the echo of feet pattering along the stone hall reached his keen ears. Several yards away, Red approached, his little pail filled with several rodents he had discovered in the stables he had been sent to check. The smell of the rat blood reached up and bit at the Counts nose several times before he shook his head in disgust. As the boy became alarmed to the scene ahead of him, he stopped and stared at the vampire with widened eyes.

"Incentive," the ebony haired man let the word slither out over his tongue. Able to shake off the scent of the blood, he roamed his right hand up and across the still exposed plain of Rawnies shoulder and neck. "It has been some time…since I was able to consume the liquids from a warm body that were not the vermin I share this putrid existence with."

Van Helsing shoved his way between the two, the twin barrels of the gun looking down into the Counts eyes.

"The only liquid that's coming from her neck is that vile shit you created a pipeline to."

"So defensive, Gabriel. Am I to assume you have not yet been allowed to lay your lips upon her bare skin?" he countered, the grin he possessed making itself known again. The tensed warrior glared down the sights and into the vampires humored eyes.

"Stop it!" the woman in the room ordered before pushing them apart and shrugging away the hand that was still stroking her neck. Van Helsing allowed himself to be shoved into the wall behind him while the opposite member of the conflict simply backed away of his own accord. "Human blood will make you talk?"

"Rawnie!"

"I love it how it takes these instances for you to get my name right," she spat toward Gabriel Van Helsing before darting her eyes over back toward the other man who was easily resting against the wall. "That's what you want?"

"That's what I want," he nodded, again never making a move to brush aside the hair swaying in front of his pale features.

The small room was silent for many long moments while the offer laid out on the table was thought through. Blood. Human blood. Strangely enough it would not be a difficult request to fulfill. A sample from each member of the household would fill a bowl. A cut on the arm would do. It would be nothing that would cause harm to anyone. A small cut, a small sample from everyone. It wasn't totally out of reach.

"It wouldn't be hard," she worded her thoughts out loud to Van Helsing who was staring up at her from the spot on the floor he had taken a seat on. "If everyone were to contribute a small amount…"

"No," Dracula nearly shouted, startling Rawnie back into her uptight stance. "I will drink no mixed blood."

"Then what do you want?" she asked through clenched teeth, her mind already familiar with what his answer would be.

"Only the feeling of breaking your flesh once more, dear Rawnie."

"That was predictable," Van Helsing snorted from the sidelines, the butt of his rifle tapping against the wall behind him.

"Be quiet or go back upstairs," the woman hissed and jabbed her chin upwards.

"Only to come back tomorrow to drag your drained body away?"

Rawnie opened her mouth to retort but controlled the foul language that was attempting to spill forth. Instead, she simply rolled her head back to the dark clad man in front of her and tapped her teeth together in frustration, earning an amused and irritated grunt from each man.

"Information first, blood later," she bargained, sending Gabriel to his feet.

"Good Lord you can't be serious, woman!"

"Oh good, you've thought of something else to call me as you avoid saying my name," she snapped.

"I am beginning to think you have a secret death wish, Ms. Valerious," he taunted purposefully.

"At times. Depends on what I'm drinking," Rawnie replied nonchalantly.

"Fine," Dracula answered quite loudly, interrupting the upcoming verbal fight between the two

"Fine?" they both asked, their eyes holding the same exasperation.

"Information first, blood later…"

Again, the room was quiet, filled to the brim with an unsteady pause.

Van Helsing stared at Rawnie hard, her eyes focused towards the floor near his feet. What the hell was she thinking? With a few blinks to herself, her gaze flew up toward his handsome yet disturbed face, eyes just as harsh. She kept telling herself that it was a good decision, that it would make everything easier in the end. Also, in the back of her mind she reminded herself that the Count was chained, there was nothing keeping her from lying to him and just walking away after she received what she wanted. That would be the smart thing to do. The cheating, lying thing to do. The thing she was use to. However, as she thought these ideas of betrayal and fibbing the throbbing of her shoulder lashed out only once, as if to remind her. Dracula had made it clear, it was temporary. It was time for her to decide if the voice in the back of her head was something she could live with or not.

"She knows your thoughts, your actions, and you existance," the vampires voice shot through her thoughts, "Just as well as she knows…knew my own."

"She?" Rawie whispered hesitantly, tilting her head.

"The being you met at the castle," Dracula answered, his own head tilting along with the woman's.

"She seemed to believe she did," she agreed and signaled back towards Van Helsing, "Him as well. Knew his real name."

"She does not believe, she does," he corrected, "Just as well as she surely knows we are having this conversation. Now that I am in your…possession, dear Rawnie, she does not need this to merely keep note of our interactions."

The pale man spun the silver hair piece he had discovered on her person earlier around his finger.

"How would she-" her words begun but her mind finished for her. Voodoo. He had mentioned it earlier. Her knowledge in such things was limited, but she was not completely oblivious. "Wait…she controlled you with that thing?"

"How the tables have turned," Gabriel quipped from behind, earning another series of grunts and glares from the other too, making him immediately feel like the third wheel in the room.

"She returned me from death with her necromancy, it is to be expected that she would have certain amounts of control over my existence."

Rawnie Valerious blinked her eyes lazily for a few times before backing up against the wall and placing her bottom down on the floor as Van Helsing had done a few minutes past. Flicking her hand about she gave a response.

"Give the damn story flat out if you will. I don't do well with this jarring conversation."

Dracula bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment.

"To say this ordeal was my choosing is a mistake, so do not take it as such, dear Rawnie," he began, but threw his eyes towards the accusing Van Helsing, "Though my home in death was not something to be envied, it held more dignity and respect than this new life has offered. After my rebirth my mind was not my own, my actions were controlled, and will useless. Orders were given and I obeyed. It was the way of the master and servant."

Van Helsing chuckled at the irony, but Dracula paid him no mind.

"I was to attack the village…I did so. You were to be hunted down on your travels to and from Rome; I attempted to stop you. Again, the town was to be raided, and you taken. I had no choice in the matter. You, dear Rawnie," the vampire grinned and pointed a long, elegant finger in her direction, "Have been the center of my bidding for quite some time. You are what she works tirelessly for, what she creates plots and plans for, you are what she drilled into my mind for so, so long."

"She's your master?" Van Helsing asked, his tone humored, but his face solemn. It was difficult to distinguish if he was asking a true question or simply gaining far to much enjoyment from the idea of the once Master of Vampires, being knocked down to the low rung of slave.

"I'm so important?" the woman gave a question as well, hers holding a more sincere backdrop.

"Devastatingly important," Dracula said, allowing his words to flow slowly from his lips.

"Why?" Rawnie asked bluntly.

The vampire paused for a time.

"I do not believe I am able to say."

"We had a deal-"

"There is much difference between not being able, and choosing not to," Vladislaus explained before wrapping his fingers around the silver hair piece still in his hand. "Though the control the creatures voodoo placed upon has gone, I am still slave to her will somewhat. Necromancy is a powerful thing." Before anyone could give a question pertaining to the necromancy, he explained. "An object belonging to the deceased and a sample of the body is all a skilled practitioner needs to bring the dead back among the living. It is not so complicated, is it?"

"Then why did the 'creature' bring you back?" Van Helsing asked.

"He's the son of the devil, Gabriel," Rawnie answered, "Don't you think he would be a good candidate for such a thing?"

"What in the world would be the purpose of bringing a thing like that back?" the man spoke again, tilting his head down towards the woman.

"Why the hell else would someone want to bring back one of the most powerful creatures?"

"She wants power," Dracula continued.

"That still doesn't tell me what she could profit from it. You're not the master of anything anymore. The vampires died with you," Van Helsing went on.

"But he's Dracula. I can't imagine that it would be a trial to create more vampires."

"It is impossible," the vampire added, bringing the others to look at him quizzically, "Though some of the less…charming features of my gift are intact, the ability that made me so indomitable in my past life have been extinguished with my death."

"Like I said, what could she profit?" Gabriel repeated.

As he thought, Rawnie sat in her corner, worrying. Being so important to such a disturbing figure was not something to be proud of. Her mind was buzzing with her own voice, thinking up reasons as to why she could serve a purpose to such a person, why Vladislaus Dragulia was recovered, and what those two reasons had to do with each other. She had been getting nothing but dead-ends since she came to the small town. Dead-ends and questions. Questions and dead-ends. It was never ending and was slowly eating at her nerves. Rubbing her forehead roughly, her body nearly jumped when the cool voice of the Count was heard again.

"That scar connects us," he whispered, almost as if he were being choked, "You and I, dear Rawnie. It is what allows me to cool you when you sweat, sooth you when you are nervous, and calm you when you feel anger," his booted feet slid across the floor closer to her sitting form. "It is what makes you see my face in your dreams…to feel my touch when you sleep…"

"What are you talking about?" Gabriel Van Helsing inquired in an equally quiet voice as he too covered the ground between Rawnie and him. The approached woman was slowly rising from her uncomfortable seat as the vampire spoke to her, head rewinding back to the velvet and lace dreams she had been pleasurable plagued with.

"It is what brings her voice and her face to your nightmares. It chases your memories of her and locks them in place."

"The…the woman in the castle?" Rawnie mumbled already getting a firm shake of the head from the Count.

"She whispers to you," he went on, voice holding a harsher edge, "Telling you, ordering you what to do, what to say. She weighs you down with her thoughts and feelings, with her bitter emotions. She is what brings you closer to me, dear Rawnie."

She stared at him for a long while, suddenly feeling like the little girl she was back when she was sprinting through the woods all those years ago.

"You know…" Rawnie started and drifted slowly.

"I can smell her in you," Dracula hummed, brushing passed a dumbfounded Van Helsing and closer to the unreadable woman.

"What is it?" she quizzed quickly and rubbed her shoulder where the scar in question was slashed, "Why is she…there, in my head?"

"She rests in you now, as you rested in her as she lived. She felt your love, your hate, your anger. Your emotions ran through her veins as hers do through yours. As are the conditions of the mark." From his distance away, the dark haired man reached out and again brushed his fingertips over the raised line of the scarring, "No matter how unintentional."

"The mark?" she breathed out.

"Verona," Van Helsing added, finally catching up to the conversation, his strong jaw tightening.

"The mark," Rawnie mimicked herself, "It's what makes me so important, isn't it?"

Dracula continued on as far as the restrains would allow him before coming to a halt before the gypsy. "It makes you the key to the power she lusts for. It is the reason you are here, the reason I was released from my hell, it is at blame for why you were sent away from this place long ago. It is what has molded your life, dear Rawnie."

Nearly the moment the former vampire master uttered her name she had turned from him and started a beeline through the door and down the long passageway, knocking over the bucket of rodents Red had left by the room before he disappeared some time ago. Van Helsing started after her, leaving Dracula standing in the room with a blank expression on his darkened features.

"Where are you going?" Van Helsing yelled after the retreating queen.

"To get a fucking, goddamn drink!"

**Shorter chapter, I know. I apologize for taking so long to write up another chapter. The next will hopefully be sooner and longer. REVVVVVIIIIIEEEEWWW!**


	13. Wonderful

Chapter Thirteen: Wonderful

"The mark of a vampire," Carl started, skimming through the pages of the book in his lap, "In extreme cases the strengths and weaknesses of the vampire are passed onto the human they bond with, and vise versa. The human falls ill, the vampire grows weak. The human dies, the vampire is drained of life. Same were to happen if the vampire were to die, the human would then expire…so on and so forth."

"But Verona died and Rawnie is still alive," Charlie spoke up from his spot on the large sofa. "Isn't she?"

"Oh yes, of course. This case was much less potent, it was an accident after all," the friar mumbled and waved a hand around, "So perhaps the largest effects would be resistance to illness, slight sensitivity to the sun…on Ms. Valerious' part. Verona, perhaps, would have been unaffected, but I really have no clue."

"But Rawnie did fall ill, not too long ago. A terrible fever, nausea…"

"May have been the result of Verona's death," Carl guess and closed the book slowly with a small shrug of his thin shoulders.

"But you said it wasn't that extreme," Charlie glared, his mind trying to come to terms with the information he had just been fed from Van Helsing, who was currently pacing back and forth behind him, the heavy thump of his boots serving as a off beat soundtrack to the conversation.

"I am simply going off guesses, Charles, I've never seen this occur."

The larger man opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the loud, slurred voice of the woman being discussed in the adjacent room.

"Well that is fucking fantastic, isn't it?"

"Why don't you boys go and take a break from all this, huh?" Van Helsing suggested with a tight smile and patted Charlie's shoulder, "Go eat some lunch or something."

"It's going on 8 o'clock, Van Helsing."

"Then dinner, go and get yourselves some dinner," he pushed slightly grinning at the drunken sob that echoed from the bar room.

"But I'm not-" Carl began a protest but Charlie agreed silently and shoved the holy-man out of the chair and toward the dining area.

"Come now ol' chum, some food will do us good," the faux sophisticate urged on before glancing over his shoulder towards the warrior who was surely going to face the beast that claimed to be Rawnie.

After the babbling of Carl had disappeared leaving only a faint echo, the tired Roman turned on his heel and began his slow walk toward the bar. The soft mumbles of the woman could reach his ears more clearly with every step he took, preparing him for the kind of mood she would be in. Shaking his head, Gabriel removed the dirty hat from his head and placed it gingerly on the shiny table to his right. Judging by the choked moans, the mood was nothing that would send him walking away with a bloodied nose.

"Come to put me out of my misery, Helsing?" the queen goaned from her position slumped over the dark wood bar. The man chuckled and tossed his leather coat across a stool nearest to him.

"No, not yet," he answered and closed the distance between himself and the depressed female. Her head was face down on the surface, forehead resting in the crook on her arm, while her hand was gripping onto a crystal glass tightly. The jacket she usually wore was long since lost, leaving her shoulders bare, the gloves she was so attached too had disappeared an hour or so ago, and her hair was in more disarray than usual. Van Helsing had to wonder how many times she had allowed herself to be in this state in a public bar.

"Why not?" she spoke again, "Aren't you tired of me yet? Haven't you had enough of this shit I'm bringing you, Gabriel? Everyone else is…has…has become." The woman then allowed her body to bring itself into an upright position before she downed the rest of her drink. Her hand then swiveled across the bar in search of the large bottle.

"You'll find I'm more patient than I look," he snorted and snatched the bottle up before she could grip it, her face taking on an immediate pout. He figured it would take a while for her brain to figure up the anger she would be showing him in a similar but more sober situation. Bringing the bottle to his nose, Van Helsing took a whiff before jerking his head to the side to stare at the woman. It took one hell of a bad mood to bring a woman to down this much straight whiskey.

"But I'm sure I'll be wanting to shoot you in the head soon enough," the man sighed before slumping his shoulders and refilling her glass and pouring himself his own.

"Before or after you shoot Dracula?" she gurgled before sipping at the brisk liquid.

"Before _and_ after," with that he raised his glass as well, welcoming the shock it sent through his body.

Rawnie's shoulders rocked gently as she allowed herself to laugh, the whiskey bubbling in the glass as her breath whipped over it. Her trembling hand reached up and messily gave the man a small slap across his poorly shaven face. As she pulled back and gave him a small wave of her finger, the woman shook her head.

"No, no, no, no, no," she slurred, "You want to shoot me now, I can see it. I can see it, Gabriel Van Helsing."

"I'm honestly surprised you can see anything right now," he admitted and watched as she downed another heavy gulp. Coming back up from it, she grinned and nodded.

"I know. You're wondering how a girl like me, can handle a drink like this," she announced and thrust her glass out, sending a few drops of its contents splattering onto the floor, "I'll tell you how, Gabriel…practice."

"I'm shocked, Rawnie," he smiled with sarcasm and quickly placed a hand out to her side as her body swayed over and back. Snorting at the gesture she batted his hand away before sliding off the stool and placing her feet carefully on the floor, drink still in hand.

"You worry more than Charlie does, Van Helsing. I am perfectly stable," she murmured and slapped his shoulder and to prove her point stood up straight and sent the remaining bit of alcohol in her glass down her throat. Slamming it down on the bar, she smiled drunkenly at the man before slipping past him and making her way towards the doorway. However, it didn't surprise him when she came sauntering back to claim the bottle for herself. Taking in a deep breath, the man sighed roughly and spun on his seat to watch her retreating figure.

"Where are you going?"

"Takin' care of something," she offered and disappeared around the corner and up the stairs.

"At least she's not going downstairs again," Van Helsing whispered and forced himself up to follow her. The stressed Carl and Charles did not need to find Rawnie passed out in the middle of a hallway. Dragging his glass off the bar to accompany him, the tired male copied her path and turned the corner that led to the large staircase.

"Get sidetracked?" he asked amused at the sight of the gypsy queen leaning over the railing boarding the sides of the open hallway that began at the top of the stairs. There she stood, head staring down, feet at shoulders width for balance, and bottle dangling from her fingers.

"I almost fell from here once," she said without looking up, only staring at the hardwood floor twenty feet beneath her, "It was funny."

"I'm sure it was," Gabriel replied with a tilt of his head as he took a few steps up the stairs. With another one of her gurgled snickers, Rawnie finally raised her head to look at him, claiming another sip in the process.

Finishing his own drink, the warrior from Rome cleared his throat softly as his eyes, sleep deprived and growing heavy, slid across the bare region of the woman's neck, shoulders, and chest that was currently all too noticeable to him from the pressure her arms were placing on herself from both sides. Popping his jaw once or twice, Van Helsing continued his ascension of the stairs, forcing his eyes to remain focused on the clean carpet beneath his feet. It wasn't until he reached the top that he allowed himself to look back in the woman's direction. He wasn't completely surprised when he found she was no longer there.

"Damn woman," he hissed and sat the empty glass on the railing before following the clattering sound that rang down the hall. As he grew closer, Van Helsing could clearly see the maid, Mrs. Danmonet standing off to one side gazing down the hall toward the room which he assumed held the drunk woman. As he passed the older lady gave a small grin before walking off, presumably to go clean something or another while the man finally came to a halt near the wide open door of the queens room.

"Thank God you're here, Gabriel," Rawnie exclaimed from in the room, suddenly appearing in the doorway and grabbing onto the collar of his shirt, "I need your help."

"With what, dare I ask?" he questioned as he was yanked into the room. For an answer, the woman pointed the bottle she still possessed up at the painting that was hanging on her wall.

"Help me get this down, Gabriel," she demanded, "I've been meaning to. I've been meaning to get it down, but I just don't have the TIME anymore, Gabriel."

"I see," Van Helsing clenched his jaw as he ran his eyes over the painting. The happy family portrait that had been staring down at Rawnie each night she had been here, constantly reminding her that she was never apart of that happiness.

With a quick nod, the man dragged a chair over to the fireplace and carefully climbed up to take the painting into this grasp. It took some jerking and twisting for the nails to finally release it, but eventually the portrait was torn from the wall to show the square of dirty wall that no one had seen in years. Stepping back onto the floor, Van Helsing turned the picture so no eyes could look upon it and leaned it against the wall. It was a tad difficult to set aside a picture of his Anna like an old toy, but the sight he saw when he turned back around told him it was the right thing to do at the moment.

Rawnie sat on the floor legs folded beneath her with the bottle of whiskey spilt over to her side, half it's contents soaking slowly into the rug. Again, her head was tilted down her shaggy hair hiding her face from anyone who looked at her and her shoulders slumped in a sort of defeat. The scar that glowed in the dim light did nothing but worsen her downtrodden appearance. The man hesitated on his side of the room for a few moments before slowly moving across the floor towards the woman. When he stood not two feet from her, he bent at his knees to become eye level with her.

"Rawnie?" he spoke deftly, his fingers coming up to brush her shoulder.

"Anna," she said in such a tone that made him pull his hand back, "Was she wonderful?"

Van Helsing stared at her, his mouth opening and closing in an attempt to form an answer that would not ignite her rage. When he came to no solution, he took a seat on the floor across from her, one leg thrown over to her side, perhaps to give her a bit of security.

"Do you not know?" she spat, the hand holding the dripping bottle shooting up to wipe away the tears he was sure was staining her face. "You have to know Van Helsing, that's why I asked you. You loved her, so you have to know."

Again he said nothing, only gently took the wet whiskey bottle from her shaking hand and sat it aside.

"Are…are we so different, Gabriel?" she stuttered, her throat squeezing back a sob. Demanding an answer to her questions Rawnie shot her head up, her tongue angrily snapping out to lick away the stray tears that had dripped along her lips. "Are we _that_ different?"

"You're different," he finally answered with an individual nod.

"So does that mean I'm not a wonderful person, Gabriel? Does that mean that since I'm not like her, I'm not a wonderful person? Am I not a wonderful person because I have this shit on my shoulder?" she shrieked, sitting up on her knees, "Is that why those fuckers sent me away?"

"I don't know, Rawnie," the man calmly said still sitting in his spot in front of her, allowing her to scream in his face.

"Yes you do!" she accused, "Everybody knows, but nobody tells me, Gabriel!"

He only continued staring at her, the calm look over his face and hand hovering over her arm to catch her whenever the rage sent her tilting to one side. A few seconds passed before she said anything again, her voice tighter and less angry.

"Was she so wonderful, Gabriel? Was she?"

"She was wonderful, Rawnie," Van Helsing nodded again, his face morphing slightly to show that his body was taking in a bit of the sorrow that she was emitting. The woman slowly shook her head as she lowered herself back down.

"I'm not that wonderful…am I?"

A long pause answered her. Rawnie bit her lip hard and moved her gaze down towards the floor, her hand caressing the carpet lovingly.

"Then why does he think I'm wonderful, Gabriel? Why am I so wonderful to him?" she asked and looked to him like a lost child, her eyes filled with confusion and hurt.

"He doesn't think anyone is wonderful, Rawnie, only himself," the man tried to tell her, pulling her hand from the floor and held it in his own, "No one is wonderful to him."

"Then I'm wonderful to no one?" she whispered and winced as if she were coming to a realization.

The man opened his mouth praying that he would be able to form words that would stop this woman's self torture, but nothing inspirational would come. The hand he kept on her for balance tightened around her arm slightly to give some form of comfort that his words could not.

Craning her head back up to where she could see him, Rawnie raised a hand that was slightly sticky from spilt whiskey and ran her fingers over Van Helsings jaw in a wobbly fashion. Clumsily scooting across the rug, Rawnie gently thumped her cheek against the mans before pulling back and letting her lips tap along the corner of his mouth.

"I'm not Anna?" she breathed, the smell of the alcohol racing into Gabriels senses, reminding him that the woman running her lips over his flesh was very, very drunk. He attempted to draw away, but found his head heavy, too heavy to move from her touch.

"No…" he answered, his voice just as airy as her own, his hand slowly unhinging itself from her arm in an attempt to create some distance. This was not Rawnie. Rawnie wouldn't be doing this if she were in the proper state of mind. She would not have allowed any of this to happen if she were sober. She would never have cried, never have collapsed, she would never have left herself this exposed to the world in any other situation. Her lips would not be drifting across his own if not for that whiskey, nor would her fingers be tangling themselves in his hair.

"And I'm not him," Van Helsing said, sending out his mental message through words. Immediately Rawnie reared back a few inches, eyes suddenly narrowed in confusion, not lust. Through the locks of thick hair that fell in front of her face, the Roman was able to tell he had struck some sort of chord in her sensible mind. For a second, yet only that, she sobered and a flash of anger spread over her face. She knew what he meant, she knew _who_ he meant. But as quickly as it had came, the sensibility drifted away and left the woman to collapse down into a fit of tears once more.

Van Helsing let her bawl. He wrapped his arms around her flinching form and stroked her back and her hair. He whispered that it was all going to be alright into her ear and subtly kissed her shoulder wear the scar tore over her pale skin. Gabriel Van Helsing sat with the Valerious woman as long as she cried and as long as she gripped at his arm. He wasn't quite sure which issue in her life she was crying about; her family, her loneliness, the vampire downstairs, or perhaps all. All he concerned himself with as he sat and consoled her was the look she gave at his last words. She was surprised at the silent accusation of any sort of feelings she would be harboring for the monster, and he was just as surprised at himself for saying anything toward it.

She didn't give any denial, she didn't scream at him…just confusion. He had brought it to the surface and now she was weeping. That made him worried. It concerned him that she may not be crying for her loss of family or of normal life. He was worried that she was crying because, indeed, Van Helsing was not him.

**Emotional one here. Short one, but emotional. I felt all through the last few chapters that Rawnie was just waiting to have some sort of major melt down and I just didn't think that her showing of weakness during the telling of her story was enough. This is the raw, drunk, Rawnie. Notice how she keeps saying Van Helsings name after nearly every sentence…heh, I love those kinds of drunks. Oh, and I feel like I should really thank my best reviewer, REMEMBER. That review was epic. EPIC. I love long reviews like that. Hope you like this chapter as well, like I said, it's a bit different from the others since it's just Rawnies little breakdown, but she needed to let it all out I think. You all know what to do, right? REVVVVIIIIEEEEWWWW!**


	14. Too Close for Comfort

**Well…it's been a really, really long time, hasn't it? A year? More? I have to apologize to my reviewers for doing that…that is if I even have any reviewers anymore. Really, if anyone reviews on this, especially my old reviewers, I don't deserve you! However, I do plan to get back on the horse with writing this. I've missed it…anyway, here you go. I hope you enjoy after all this time.**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Too Close for Comfort

Rawnie didn't bother to keep track of the time at this point of the morning. Though the large, mahogany clock in the in the hallway let out a dull roar at the hour, she didn't count how many times it chimed. The sun had long since peeked up over the rooftops of Vaseria for a brief moment, if only to shine its rays through her window to jolt her body to life, before again disappearing behind the low hanging clouds. So, since dawn the woman had remained in her sprawled out position in her bed, eyes staring blankly up at the dark wood of the ceiling. She had listened to the workers of the household rise from their quarters and begin their morning routines downstairs as well as outside. She could smell the smoke rising from the kitchen as breakfast was being prepared for her and her friends, hear the harsh strokes of the broom bristles as the walkways were cleared around the stable, and finally the sound of Charlie and the rest awakening met her ears.

For a moment she thought that someone was going to enter her room. Her eyes rolled down from the ceiling to the double doors leading to the hallway were she was certain someone was looming. She continued to lay in silence waiting for a knock or a turn of the knob to confirm her belief. Surely it would be Charlie checking on her recovery from the sorry state she put herself in the night before, or perhaps Mrs. Danmonet coming to bring her a bit of breakfast. Whoever Rawnie thought it might have been soon did not matter because there were only the sounds of retreating footsteps to prove that someone had been there at all. In response, the woman only rolled to her side and stared out her window that not too long ago had been smashed in by the count she now kept a few floors below. As she found her mind drifting toward Dracula, Rawnie also found her hand moving toward her scarred shoulder. It didn't hold the same warmth that it did before that night the vampire took her and sank his teeth into her flesh. Temporary. That's what he said it would be. She hadn't heard the voices, the thoughts, the dreams…but they would come back. That's what he said…

Rawnies face squeezed tightly as the throbbing in her head reminded her of why she was still in bed. Throwing her hands over her eyes, she rolled away from the window and towards her dimly lit room. A quick survey told her that her drunken state didn't bring any havoc to her bedroom, though the odor of alcohol was still lingering. A table on a far wall held the bottle with the remnants of her beverage of choice for the night and her jacket that she lost somewhere in the course of the night was dangling from the back of a chair not to far off. A quick change of vision would reveal that her gloves were neatly placed on her bedside table. Surely she wasn't able to pull herself together enough to find all of these things before pouring herself into bed last night, was she? A quick snort at that thought to herself brought on the obvious answer. Someone took care of her last night.

Even before she knew the question she had come up with the answer. Her tongue slowly slipped out to lick her cracked lips once before retreating back into her dry mouth. She could still taste his skin on her lips and smell him in her room. She could still feel his smooth fingers, always protected by leather, along her arm and back. Her mind was able to conjure up images of his face and words, but little else. It worried her not knowing what she may have done last night with Gabriel Van Helsing.

She sat up slowly, careful of her delicate headache. Tossing the heaving covers from her body, her worries were elevated even more when she realized that she was not wearing her normal day garb. Instead, she was clothed in her usual nightwear. Her eyes wondered blankly over herself for a few minutes before one of her hands reached behind her and snatched up one of the soft pillows, quickly bringing it up to her nose. Rawnie took in a deep breath before pulling the object away, allowing the scent of it to run through her mind. It didn't smell like him. She was almost tempted to lean down and smell her sheets to make sure they did not have his scent on them. However, before she could, the same man she was concerned about carefully pushed her bedroom door open.

"Well, good morning. Or, nearly afternoon now," Van Helsing greeted with a small smile and slowly walked toward her with a glass of water. The woman on the bed just watched him with near suspicion as he approached and placed the glass on her bedside table. She remained silent as he lowered himself into a chair not far from her and watched her. As she reached for the water, she was sure a strange expression was spreading on her face.

"How are you feeling?" he asked nonchalantly.

Rawnie paused in her sips of water at the question as if she were going to answer. She looked at him for a few moments, thinking, before taking another heavy gulp of liquid, and placed the glass back on the table.

"Did we sleep together last night?" Her straight question seemed expected but the mans face still contorted a bit as he shifted in his chair. He gave her a grin and a brief shake of his head.

"No, we didn't."

Gesturing to her garments, she shot out another question.

"Did you see me naked?"

"No. I found it for you, you managed to get the clothes off and on yourself."

Looking at him as if she didn't quite trust him, she grabbed for the glass again. She didn't share her bed with Gabriel Van Helsing…but she still couldn't shake the memory of his hand along her arm, or the taste of him on her lips. Looking at him over the rim of the glass, she was still a bit surprised at how laid back he was during this conversation. At most instances he proved that she was the kind of woman that he would want nowhere near his bed. However, he seemed perfectly content with all that happened and possibly could have happened last night. She couldn't have imagined all of it. It was aggravating. They were close last night. He was close, so close she could literally taste him.

She was going to open her mouth and throw out another question or comment about last night, but something behind Van Helsings head caught her eye. Or rather the lack thereof. There, on the far wall, sat an empty portion of wall where a picture use to hang. Rawnies eyes narrowed as she tried to put the pieces together, slowly. Below her line of vision, the man glanced over his shoulder in curiosity, only to shift his eyes back to her, waiting for her to come to any kind of conclusion.

She slid a hand over her face and through her hair as the memory of the family portrait being pulled from the wall by Van Helsing came tumbling into place.

"I shouldn't have had you do that," the woman whispered through the fingers that were now covering her mouth. Gabriel only looked at her before rolling his eyes toward the floor.

"It's fine. I understand why you wanted to do it."

"But I shouldn't have had you do it, Gabriel." With that, the still slightly unsteady woman stood up from the bed and snatched her robe up. Pulling it over herself and trudging across the room at the same time, Rawnie was cursing herself and her family both at the same time. Why did they even need a damn portrait for her to feel bad about? Gripping the frame, she pulled it out from its hiding place, slightly bitter. Once it was free of its prison, she propped it against the wall, facing out before making her way back to the bed, arms crossed over her stomach.

"I'll have it hung in another room," she commented and collapsed on the soft mattress. After a few seconds of silence she gave a hard look at Van Helsing. "Maybe you or the Vatican would want it."

Gabriel returned her look, as if searching her for any hidden meaning. She just sat there, staring at him. He felt a little bad for always wondering if there was always something hidden up this woman's sleeve, but for the life of him, he couldn't help it. She seemed too…too…intelligent to give it all away for nothing. Too cynical, too dark, too intelligent for her own good. She seemed to be on the opposite side of the coin then Anna. Anna was optimistic, brave, and unshakable in her quest to defeat Dracula. Rawnie…Rawnie seemed to be making Dracula her ally these days. Though, Van Helsing had to wonder if it was her initial personality, or Rawnies troubled childhood that made her the way she was. What made her cry at the thought of not being wonderful like Anna, and breakdown when he made her realize that he was not Dracula as she ran her fingers through his hair and her lips over his?

The brief memories of that incident last night made him unconsciously lick his bottom lip.

* * *

The gypsy queen had gotten dressed, devoured a quick lunch, found Charles, and delivered her apologies for the night before all in one hour after her discussion with Gabriel Van Helsing. Charles seemed to be concerned, and then irritated, and then he twisted back around to concerned. It was his normal behavior after a night of heavy drinking by his good friend. However, it would seem that these days his concern was earned.

That was several hours ago. It was this concern from Charlie that made Rawnie feel even worse for placing herself at the top of the stairs leading down to the cellar once again. Staring down into the dimly lit walkway below, she puffed on the rolled cigarette she was offered from one of the kitchen hands. Smoking was never one of her habits, but with the way her life was going, she could easily manage taking on another addiction to take her mind off of the day-to-day activities. Every now and again she would hear someone walk across the wood floor somewhere near by, and she would just sit with her eyes closed, waiting for Gabriel to come stomping up behind her in defiance at what she was thinking of doing. However, the footsteps always passed. It seemed that after last night's…ruckus, no one wanted to bother the woman any more than necessary today.

Smashing the cigarette under her boot, the gypsy laced her fingers in front of her face and continued to peer down the stairs. Her initial intention was to simply sit, think, and smoke. After a few hours, her mind was now wondering to the creature…the man that she kept below. She thought about the deal she made with him the day before. Information for blood…her blood. She thought about the information that he provided her with, about how they were connected by the scar, and how he explained to her why she had been having such…raw dreams involving him. Remembering these dreams not only made her tightly shut her eyes, but it also made her grudgingly admit to herself that since her sleep had been cleared of the those scarlet dreams, she had been waking with a strange since of loneliness. They had troubled her, yes, but at the same time…

Her head jerked to the side as she heard footsteps on the floor again. Leaning back slowly so she could glance around the doorway, Rawnies eyes scanned the large hall for a sign of life. After a minute or so, her back screamed at her to move back into a comfortable position, and her paranoid mind eventually bent to the request and she slipped back into the darkness of the stairwell. However, when she did, she was instantly thrown into near convulsions by the surprise of another human being perched on the stair next to her.

"Piping hot hell in a bloody hat box, Red!" she screamed, in turn scaring the young man who had previously just been staring at her. Rawnie, grabbing her chest in an attempt to calm her heart, glared at him.

"Sorry, lady lady," he squeaked from his corner of the stair.

"How long…how did you…" she started to babble and pointing over her shoulder to indicate that she had been on patrol to make sure that nothing like this little incident happened. Her instincts must have been failing.

"I just just came from that way way," Red offered in his odd language and pointed in the opposite direction from where the woman had been scouting. She glanced at him and then at the alternate route before cursing to herself. She was trying to blame her stupidity on her headache and general mental instability at the moment, but she just couldn't find it in herself to do so.

"Lovely," Rawnie mumbled before turning back to him. It wasn't before facing him that she noticed there was a peculiar smell in the air. Something that made her wrinkle up her face in displeasure and rear back slightly. The boy must have noticed because he grabbed a pail at his feet and raised it up to eye level with a look of pride on his face. Rat and mouse blood. A whole pail of rodent blood was gentle swaying back and forth in front of the queens' face, and the only thing that came to her mind was, 'is it that time of day again already?'.

Dragging her eyes away from the small offering of blood, she once again moved her focus down to the depths of the makeshift dungeon; the temporary home of Count Vladislaus Dragulia. Once again her body leapt in surprise as the large clock behind her chimed with the hour, reminding her yet again how long she had been hovering just beyond his reach. Biting her lip, she could picture him waking from whatever kind of restless sleep he found down in that cell. She imagined that he knew she was there. She imagined that even as he slept he had felt her sitting idly on the step, wringing her hands and smoking her cigarette. The thought of him being so…_aware_ of her made her even more anxious than she was before.

Red started to get up, no doubt going about his task to feed the vampire below. Quickly, Rawnie jabbed a hand out and latched onto his thin arm, stopping him in his tracks. His wide eyes turned back to her in curiosity. The woman shook her head and gave him a tight smile.

"I-" she started, her throat suddenly dry from her own thoughts. "I'll take it down, Red."

"Are you sure sure, lady?" he asked. Red held a tone to his voice as he raised the question that bordered on suspicion, a tone that Rawnie had never heard from him before. Had her behavior really started to worry everyone in the household this much?

"Yes, Red, I'm sure," she assured before standing and grabbing the blood pail from the young mans hand. For a moment, his hand was reluctant to release the handle, but after stern look from the gypsy queen, he let go.

"Go and reset the traps, Red," she told him gently and turned from the redheaded boy to descend the stairs. As she made her way down, she could feel his young eyes still on her as if waiting for her to turn and request his presence down in the darkness. When she reached the bottom step, she finally heard him take his leave. Now she only had to worry about the boy going off and telling Van Helsing that the crazy woman pranced downstairs again.

The Valerious woman slowly walked down the passageway, the pail swinging gently at her side. Her feet felt heavy, her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in the tips of her fingers, and it seemed the nearer she got to the door in front of her, the worse it got. She didn't know why these effects were making themselves known all of a sudden. Maybe it was bit of alcohol that was still running through her veins, maybe spending the past few hours on that stair just worked herself up, maybe she was nervous after that deal she made with him…

Before she knew it the intimidating door was a foot in front of her, and she was staring at it with a viciousness she didn't even know she had. Her hand was gripping the handle of the pail so tightly, she was sure that her nails were digging ditches into her palms, while her empty hand stayed loose at her side, a bit of sweat seeping up from between its fingers. Why did she tell Red she would do this? Was she really going to let the vampire feed off of her like she had promised? She wasn't sure, but the idea of the count sinking his teeth into her again sent a small quake down her back from fear. From fear, and something else that she refused to identify before jerking the door open and glaring inside.

The woman paused in the doorway. Vladislaus was standing, facing the door, an immediate sign to Rawnie that he probably knew about her arrival long before she touched the door. However, his 'greeting' posture was not only different, his hair was as well. It took her a few moments to remember the incident from yesterday with the hairclip, but it eventually came rolling back when she noticed that the mans deep hair was pulled back and away from his rather handsome face. She continued to glare at him until the loud bang of the door falling closed behind her immediately shook her awake and made her take a few tentative steps into the cell.

The gypsy opened her mouth to speak, but the counts voice cut her off.

"My dear Rawnie," he began, his voice as smooth as ever, "what a delight to see you here with my…nourishment."

She could she his eyes slide down to the pail at her side in disgust then back up to her face.

"Red was busy," she lied and inwardly cringed. He would know a lie. She could hear him make a sound in the back of his throat and she gritted her teeth. He took a few lazy steps toward her, steps that she was certain were meant to make her back away. She stood her ground.

"You have new…smells on you," he slowly slithered out as he approached, the chains rattling behind his words. Her jaw tightened as he continued speaking and invading her personal space.

"Smoke. Ashy and of tobacco…" he concluded with a lip curled slightly to match the glare that the woman was sending him. "Alcohol. Strong…"

Pausing, the snatched her free hand and brought his exposed wrist up to his nose. Rawnie gave a firm jerk, but Dracula was a strong creature.

"Strong…and still flowing through your veins," he finished, his cold breath beating down on the skin of her hand as he spoke. With a grin that aggravated her to the core, he loosened his fingers and she pulled her hand from his. She suddenly felt like the pail in her hand was a liability and took a step away from the oddly behaving vampire before placing it on the floor.

"There is another scent that I find difficult to…" Dracula stopped as if a bit irritated and then continued, "ignore, dear Rawnie."

"I don't cater to your senses, dear Count," Rawnie mocked, inwardly thinking that it may have been a bad decisions when the man reached the rest of the way the bonds would allow him, and grabbed her by the neck. The gypsy queen was then pulled towards him until they were nose to nose. Her hands instinctively wrapped around the wrist and arm the held her, her nails trying the bite through the their fabric of his garments, but to no avail. It was finally going to happen. Exactly what Van Helsing said would happen. He was going to suck her dry and leave her down here for someone to find. She was foolish to think that she could be an ally with this man, this creature. Staring into his face and those beautiful and dangerous eyes, she thought maybe she deserved to go out this way since she brought him into her house. At least if he didn't choke the life out of her first.

Of course, it wasn't until she had that thought that she realized that he wasn't choking her at all. She…she could breathe. He wasn't choking her. Then nothing but him draining the life out of her to look forward to she supposed.

"It's everywhere on you," he suddenly began speaking again, bringing her out of her fears, "on your skin, your hair, your hands."

Rawnie began to feel very uncomfortable with this and began squirming in his grip. One of the hands that were clinching his arm moved to push away at his chest. It felt like she was pushing a stone wall. The vampires other hand came up and gently tapped around the sides of her mouth, making her stop in her motions.

"I can even smell it on your mouth," the count gave a grin that made her wish she had never came down here, even when he began running his fingers over her lips. He hadn't been like this before…not with her at least.

"Do you know who it smells like, dear Rawnie?"

"Stop it," she demanded in a tone that she had rarely shown him. It did nothing but make his eyes narrow and the hand gripping her neck to shake her slightly.

"I believe," he started, "you had a much more _personal_ experience with said individual, so perhaps, it should be you who speaks his name. Hmm?"

"You already know, so what does it matter?" she spat out, still glaring into his blue eyes that held something that she couldn't put her finger on.

"You allow him to touch your skin and his lips to yours, and you will not even say his name?" his tone was nearly amused now, which was making Rawnie all the more angry.

"You assume to much, dear count," she hissed out, "Why do you care what Van Helsing touched, or what I touched on Van Helsing for that matter?"

His head reared back slightly after she finally spoke the name and the posing of the question. His expression was fairly unreadable, but she had a sinking feeling that she had somehow managed to make him angry again. His fingers flexed a few times around her neck as he stared at her.

"You say Van Helsing has no property here," he returned her hiss and her words from the other night. The woman jutted her jaw out defiantly and looked the powerful vampire straight in the eye.

"And neither do you."

With a flick of his wrist, he instantly sent her skittering across the room and to the dirty floor where she came to rest next to the door. Raising herself up onto her elbows, Rawnie only looked back at the count through the curtain of hair that had fallen in front of her face from the rough treatment. He was still standing in the same spot, staring down at her, his eyes blazing. These weren't scare tactics. He was angry. Angry at her…possibly angry at Van Helsing. Rawnie began to pull herself up from the floor, her eyes never leaving his figure. She was going to have some bruises from her landing. She could already feel the heat of them welling up on her back and side.

Still staring harshly at him, and he returning the favor, the queen moved to gather up the blood pail once more, careful of it sloshing over the sides. Stubbornly approaching him again, she held out the pail.

"Take your food," she said plainly. He refused to look at the grotesque offering.

"Take it," she repeated louder, her voice reverberating around the small room.

"I will not," Vladislaus countered in an even voice, eyes still cold. Rawnie gnashed her teeth before bending quickly to place the pail at the mans feet. In her eagerness, some of the scarlet sludge slid over the top and poured onto the floor, but she paid it no mind. Taking to her full height, she gestured down to the floor.

"Then eat when you please, I don't care."

"Consider yourself lucky that you still have that vile liquid running through your veins, dear Rawnie. Do not think that I have forgotten our agreement." The threat that the count issued ran through her like lightening and her backbone straitened as she stood in front of him.

"I'll remember that." She intended for the words to come out as a confident sentence, but they came out as a pathetic whisper from a strained throat. Again, she found herself staring at his face and unable to stop. They were too close together for her comfort. He was acting strangely and erratically. She shouldn't be this close to him. She could be thrown through a wall.

Suddenly, some little memory from last night began to flicker to life as she stared at that beautiful and pale face. She remembered the warmth from Van Helsings nearness, the scent of his skin…then she remembered something he said. '_I'm not him…_'. Him…she had no idea what her reaction may have been to this, but she had a fairly good idea to who 'him' was. And, Van Helsing was right, he wasn't 'him'. Because as Rawnie looked at 'him', in seconds she could think about how many ways the two were different…but, at the same time she was sure if she had the time, she could think of a few things were they were the same…

'_I'm not him…_'

Slipping that piece of the puzzle in with some of the others from last night, Rawnie began to think that Gabriel suspected she only brought her lips to his because she thought those lips weren't his at all. Surely she wasn't that delusional. Surely…

Remembering where she was, the woman gave a few hard blinks and brought her eyes back to the man in front of her from where they had wondered. She found that he was staring at her intently, almost as if he were reading her mind. Perhaps he was. The anger had seeped from his eyes and now there was only that same look of arrogance and mild curiosity that she was accustom to. This brought her back to being at ease and jittery at the same time.

That's why it was a different brand of emotions when his chilled lips moved across the small distance between them and roughly grasped hers. She didn't pull back, but her hands gripped at her sides in a kind of silent rebellion against it that she just couldn't stand to voice. His lips were surprisingly soft, and even melding with her warmth, his breath was icy cold and brought goose bumps screaming down her neck. His hands slid up her upper arms and latched onto the cloth of her jacket so tightly she was sure that it was going to tear. Rawnies hands clinched unclenched themselves until finally she allowed them to stray onto the gritty material of his coat and move up, following the path of the buttons till her fingertips grazed the cool exposed flesh along his neck.

The kiss was ravenous, almost desperate, as one mouth seemed to tear at the other. The woman gripped at the lapels of his coat furiously, certain that if she let go he would shove her away even though his grip on her remained firm. Above them she could hear the echo of heavy footsteps and a strong male voice, muffled by the ceiling. She instinctively glanced up at the voice that she was sure belonged to Van Helsing, and who of which she was sure was looking for her. Dracula's cold lips slid over her upturned jaw, his teeth graze her skin carefully as she tried to tell where the man upstairs was heading. It was nearly impossible to concentrate as the man she currently was latched onto moved his attentions to her neck. It made her nervous still, as she felt the vampires teeth slide over her flesh in places where she was sure he could get a good meal. Gasping slightly at a small nip, she turned her gaze back down to see his eyes blazing once more. The count was not angry though.

In a sudden split decision, Rawnie shoved herself out of the mans grasp and towards the door, successfully ripping her jacket sleeve from his still strong hold. She just stared at him with a slightly dazed and breathing hard before slowly beginning to back out of the cell.

"Rawnie," he cooed like one would to a child, and looked at her with a small smirk and an extremely smug expression on his face. It had been done. She was going to try and ignore it, he knew, but she would not be able to. They both knew that. He watched her for as long as he could until the door closed and she turned and leaned against it, still very much feeling him staring at the door.

Rolling her eyes down to the ripped sleeve, she groaned. She would have to think of an excuse. Sliding down and pulling her knees to chest a small cringe spread over her face as the pain of the new bruises made themselves known. An excuse for the rip. But first she would need to get this taste off of her lips…his taste…much stronger than any Gabriel Van Helsing. Raising her fingers to her mouth, she felt her breath. Oddly enough, a bit colder than before. She didn't expect Vladislaus Dragulia to really…have a taste. However, he tasted like the first sip of red wine out of a bottle and bitter cherries. She needed to get rid of it, but wasn't really sure she wanted to.

The conundrum made her subconsciously lick her lips. Then again.

Then once more.

* * *

Rawnie lay soaking in her bath silently. For the second time that day she found herself staring up at the ceiling in silence and thought. She thought about her stumbling back upstairs and her brief encounter with Van Helsing. She thought about her fabricated story about how she tore her sleeve on a nail somewhere in the house, and the disbelieving face that she got from the man. She thought about how the idea of a bath popped into her mind and how scrubbing away all the scents Vladislaus Dragulia mentioned would feel…even Van Helsings scent. And, every now and again she would allow herself to think about the kiss shared downstairs with the vampire before she would shove it away into the deep dark recesses of her mind where she could at least attempt to ignore it for the time being.

Sliding her body down the slick white porcelain, the woman submerged herself in the water, slightly murky with different scents. The water was approaching that irritatingly tepid temperature that signaled to her that it was time to get out soon, but her body just would not respond to that request. Instead she just allowed her face to immerge from the water before taking a long, shaky breath.

It was then that the few candles lit in the washroom flickered out, leaving Rawnie in a relatively dark room. Quickly sitting up in the bath, she sent her eyes flying around the room in a quiet paranoia. Perhaps the wind…no, the windows were shut. Were the candles simply past their prime? She quickly confirmed that each one was still standing tall in their place, smoke rising gently from them. They still had many uses left.

"Hel-" she started to whisper out, but was interrupted by a sharp and familiar pain spreading over her shoulder. Gripping it tightly with her hand, the gypsy clinched her teeth to hold back a noise of agony. 'It will only be temporary…' The counts voice echoed in her head and she leaned back in the water, immediately missing the pain free days she had been having. Still holding her scarred shoulder, Rawnie gently closed her eyes and tried to think away the pain. However, while in the midst of this personal calming session, her heart skipped a beat when she felt a cold hand run over her cheek.

Jerking away and to the other side of the bath, the woman blinked her eyes fiercely, forcing the bit of dizziness out of her vision. Once the world was straight again, what little breath she had stopped in her throat.

"Ver…Verona?" she spoke in a small voice, her face visibly shocked by the sight of the presumably dead vampire in front of her. She looked just the way she did the night in the forest, when Rawnie was just a child. Her long, dark hair swept over her shoulders and framed that lovely face, as those intense eyes gazed at the human woman. Instinctively, Rawnies arms flew up to cover herself, though the vampire didn't seem to notice her indecency. She only reached one long, graceful hand out and carefully brushed her fingertips over the queens' wet hair.

"Hush, child," the bride hummed, once again bringing back memories from long ago.

"You're…you're dead…" the human spoke, ignoring Veronas words. The terrifying and beautiful vampire brought her hand away before giving a smile that made Rawnie all the more uncomfortable.

"You have been taking great care in keeping my love," she replied. It was instantly clear to the frightened woman that 'my love' was the man downstairs. She opened her mouth to speak again, but before any words could come out, Verona sunk into the shadows behind her. She was out of sight, but Rawnie could still feel her in the room. Watching…

Shrugging off the throb in her shoulder, the waterlogged woman cautiously moved closer to the end of the bath where the dead woman previously was. Peering into the shadows, she could see no sign of her, and the same result came when her wide eyes moved over the rest of the room yet again. She was still there…but how could she hide in such a small room?

A hand then swooped out of the darkness and clenched around her throat with a force that Dracula had not shown. Rawnie was forced backwards and into the bathwater, her head bouncing off of its hard bottom. She thrashed her legs and arms about, spraying water over the room, trying to get herself to the surface. Unfortunately, the hand holding her down proved all too strong, and she had nothing to do but succumb to its will. Her fingers clawed desperately at the hand and arm until she could feel bits of skin begin to peel away under her nails. At this, she was pulled out of the water to come face to face with the white face and fangs of a monstrous Verona.

"He is not yours," she hissed in the face of the woman who was gasping for air under the pressure of the vampires grip. "He is mine!"

Again, she was forced underwater, certain she was going to be killed by this angered creature. Rawnie tried to keep the water from flooding into her lungs, but it was a difficult task. Her legs kicked at the body hovering above her, but like pushing at Dracula himself, it seemed like she was merely kicking at a wall. She was going to die by the hands of a creature that was supposed to be long gone. She wanted to cry out for help. She wanted to yell for Van Helsing to come and save her when she really needed saving. And, oddly enough, she wanted to scream for Dracula. His bride was killing her, but for a reason that was beyond her, in the back of her mind she thought that he would stop this. He would save her…

However, the woman soon found that she may not need saving. The hand holding her down was suddenly absent, and as though waking for a nightmare, Rawnie yanked herself out of the water, taking in a huge breath of air. Her hands held the sides of the bathtub in a death grip as she breathed, almost waiting for the next onslaught to come. But, nothing happened. She was alone in the washroom once more with no sign of the attacking bride. As she calmed, she couldn't help but notice the glow of candles around her. Her eyes narrowed in confusion she stared at them, distinctly remembering them being snuffed out. Glancing over the side of the bath, she looked down at the floor that was dry, even after her messy struggle in the water. Glaring out of the window across the room, she noted the moon was at a substantially higher position in the sky than it was when she began her soak.

"A…a dream?" Rawnie spat out and ran a hand over her neck not feeling any heat from bruises that she should be accumulating. A dream…a nightmare. The amount of time that she had been asleep was a mystery to her, and frankly, didn't care. She only wanted to get out of the room that was now making her body shake with nervousness. Pulling herself slowly out of the water, the Valerious wrapped her robe around her otherwise naked form, ignoring the thought of being proper.

Cracking open the door to reveal the lit hallway, Rawnie had to stop. Her eyes danced up and down the length of the hall, as if looking for something. The manor was quiet. There was no sound of people moving around a floor beneath her, no voices, not even the clattering of pans from the kitchen. Just deathly silence. Subconsciously running her hand up the smooth fabric of her robe, she again clutched her shoulder. Something was…off. Something was wrong.

Moving further into the hallway and toward the stairs, the woman's breath slowed while she tried to search for any form of sound or life. Only the sound of her feet padding down the stairs greeted her. Maybe she was acting like a scared child. Maybe the dream with Verona had shaken her so terribly that she was simply being overly suspicious. When her feet met with the even floor once again, she straightened her back as if trying to physically make herself surer of the situation.

"Charlie?" she shouted out, the word reverberating on the walls and ceiling. No answer.

"Carl?"

Again, nothing.

"Van Helsing?" she called one last time, her voice rising a bit. She waited…and waited…there was no response. Moving herself to the left, she approached the large map hanging on the wall, a location that Gabriel Van Helsing was often seen. His form was nowhere to be found. Turning on her heel, Rawnie headed for the bar area. As she got nearer, she could already see that the room was painfully vacant. She bit her lower lip with anxiety at the situation.

"Gabriel?" she screamed out, making sure to penetrate all closed doors of the large house. Silence glared back at her.

Letting out a small sound of irritation, Rawnie again turned from the room, swiftly making for the large doorway. She soon skidded to a halt from someone standing in her way.

"Mrs. Danmonet," the younger woman breathed out, relieved to see another living thing. The shorter of the two only gave a brief smile before turning her attention to the garments of the taller.

"Oh dear, Ms. Valerious, what in the world are you thinking running around in that? You'll catch cold from the drafts," Mrs. Danmonet worried while Rawnie only gave a small smile.

"I'm sure I'll pull through," she started then paused. "Where is everyone?"

At this, the maid paused as well.

"I can't find anyone. Have you seen them?"

"Oh, I'm sure they're around somewhere, Miss," she finally answered with a slight flick of her hand. "Now come, dinner is nearly done."

"Dinner?" Rawnie repeated and stared down at the older woman. There was no scent of food in the air. And as diligent as she was with finding a speck of sound before, she was sure that there was no movement in the kitchen.

"Yes," Danmonet nodded cheerfully, still firmly looking up at her former charge. There was quiet between the two for a few moments, one with an unfaltering stare, the other struggling to make some kind of sense of what was going on. That suspicion that had followed Rawnie out of the washroom was still clinging to her.

"Aren't you hungry, dear?"

"I…" the gypsy began before clearing her throat, "I am."

"Well then, come along," the pudgy woman laughed out and started her way toward the kitchen, sure that the still damp woman behind her would follow. She did…slowly.

"I feel like I should tell you again how happy all of us are that you're home again," Mrs. Danmonet chatted. "It's lovely to have a Valerious in the manor again. Things just weren't the same."

She stopped her speaking as if waiting for Rawnie to respond. Something that never came.

"But, miss, we are a bit anxious whenever you go out or go down to see that terrible beast. It seems you always seem to get yourself into trouble, just like when you were a child," she chuckled. "But really, making deals and such with that thing make us all worried. After all, it's not-"

Rawnie halted in her steps.

"How did you know about that?" she quickly asked, interrupting the ramblings of the maid. Danmonet slowly turned with a half smile, shaking her head.

"You told me, dear."

The Valerious stiffened noticeably at the mention of 'the deal' and her otherwise blank stare became apprehensive as her eyebrows knitted together. The kind old woman continued to look upon her with a slightly amused expression that made her all the more doubtful of the entire situation.

"No…I didn't."

Mrs. Danmonet cocked her head to one side as she studied the young woman, the amusement slipping from her face. Rawnies heart began beating rapidly again and her slipped in and out of her mouth at an equal pace. Wrong…something was wrong. The feeling was so distinct and thick she could almost smell it in the air.

"Where. Is. Everyone?" she questioned again, determined to get some kind of answer.

"Miss Rawnie-" Danmonet whispered and took a step forward while Rawnie took a step back. It was strange how she could face down Dracula without giving an inch, but this small woman was suddenly forcing her back.

"Where are they?" again she asked, nearly shouting. The emotion she was feeling had to be blossoming over her face from the reaction she got from the normally sweet woman. Her plump face seemed to melt into a mask of stoniness, while her eyes changed from inviting to threatening.

"You need to calm down, miss," she spoke, her voice loosing its polite and friendly nature.

"Where is Van Helsing? Where is Charlie? Where is Carl? Where is Red?" Rawnie listed off the names of the missing, not really expecting an answer. Again, the aged housekeeper moved toward her. This time, however, the queen bolted away and back down the hall.

She didn't know where she was running, and she wasn't completely sure why she was running in the first place. It was just…wrong. Everything felt wrong. Her intuition was shrieking at her to get away from that woman, to run away. She picked up the hem of her robe to keep it from catching her legs. Walls of pictures and ornaments rushed by her as she sprinted, her legs carrying her to a place where she felt safe. A place where she thought she could find solace and protection. The basement. She flew down the stairs, ignoring the roughness of the stones beneath her bare feet. The door to the monsters lair came in sight, only driving her on at a faster pace. Her hands splayed out in front of her as she drew closer, fingers wrapping around the handle the moment they were close enough. Swinging the door open, Rawnie dashed into the small cell.

Once again, she was stopped in surprise.

"Wh-where…" the woman stuttered and stared wide eyed, and mouth gaping over the room. A room that was completely empty. The chains that were suppose to be holding the powerful vampire in, were laying limply on the floor around her. The bucket of blood that she had brought down only hours before was tipped on its side, the scarlet contents splattered along the stones, its smell even more pungent then before.

When her mind finally caught up with her and the realization that there was the count himself running free somewhere nearby, the gypsy queen felt all to vulnerable. Pulling the front of her robe together tightly, Rawnie slowly backed out of the room, keeping her back to the walls. She couldn't sense him around, but the thought that he was now free in her home to do as he wished did not sit well in the pit of her stomach. Creeping back towards the steep stairway, she continuously glanced over her shoulder, just knowing that he would somehow appear out of the darkness. When she was again on the top of the stairs, her shaky vision moved back and forth, side to side, searching for any movement. She was urged on when nothing met her eye.

Rawnie moved through the manor, keeping to the walls and staying as silent as she could manage. Though her feet made no noise on the carpet, her ears were filled with the sound of her struggling heartbeat. She was breathing so rapidly the new bruises along her back and side stung. The new pain served as a reminder of strength that rested within Count Vladislaus Dragulia. Moments ago she was rushing to him for refuge, and earlier in the day she was holding onto him in a white knuckle clasp…odd how an absence of restraints could bring such a fear bubbling to the surface. As she climbed the stairs to the second floor, she began wondering if the count would actually bring harm to her or if her heightened state of alarm was making her unease worse. He had saved her from the voices in her head, revealed the story of his situation, and crushed his lips to hers. Would he attack her from the shadows?

And what of Mrs. Danmonet?

A sound that she would usually chalk up to the buildings age getting the best of it, forced her back into a run down the long hallway. She screamed past closed doors towards yet another set of stairs that led to the cozy library above. Once to the foot of the stairs, her feet twisted beneath her bringing her down upon the unforgiving sharp steps. Biting her tongue to keep from yelling out at the pain that swept over her leg, Rawnie powered on up the curving stairs into the gullet of the tower.

"God damnit," the woman whispered harshly as she tumbled into the room that was crowded with stacks of books. Since she had failed to bring a light along with her, the room felt like a dark cave. Stumbling to her feet, the exhausted woman leaned against a ratty old couch, again pulling her robe together.

A brisk air ran over her back then. The Valerious froze against the couch, a very familiar lump forming in her throat. She felt like she was shaking, though when her eyes rolled down to her hands, she could see them staying still. A large gulp of the now cold air filled her tired lungs before she released it, sure that she would see a puff of fog in front of her face. A presence beat down on her back, as if begging her to turn around and look. Her expression was curiously staying even.

"Where is everyone?" Rawnie questioned far calmer than she felt. A tense few moments passed as she waited for a response. She felt like she should wait, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins forced her head around to peer at what she was sure was staring her down.

There he was in all his dark and beautiful glory. Dracula looked at her from across the narrow expanse of the library, his eyes as unreadable as ever. Rawnie made a full turn toward him and again was positive she could feel her body shaking under his gaze. This was not the cell and he was not bound in place. She found herself loosing the bravery that made her speak in the first place. He took a long step toward the woman, sending her back a few feet like a petrified child.

"Dear Rawnie…" his voice slithered out of his mouth like a silky strand of black ribbon. It wrapped around her neck, stopping her breath. Again, he moved forward, and again she reflected his actions.

"Where are they!?" the woman screamed at him, her fear raw. His face never waivered from its stoic countenance as she continued. "Did you kill them?"

"No," he immediately answered.

"Why the _fuck_ should I trust you? How did you get out? Who let you out? What's going ON?!" her voice rising to an unappealing tone, bringing the man in front of her to quickly cover the distance and enclose her upper arms tightly in his hands. She writhed wildly in a failed attempt to separate herself from him.

"They are here to take you," he hissed in her face, calming her.

"They? Who's they? Danmonet?" she squeaked while eyeing him, her brain finally absorbing the fact that his dark hair was again loose, and falling over his shoulders and pale face. His clip was gone…the clip that held so much influence over him when in the hands of that…thing in the castle.

"Where is your clip?" Rawnie again spoke, not waiting for him to answer her previous pondering. His lips thinned in a rare sign of emotion playing over his face.

"She has come for both of us, dear Rawnie."

"She?" The Valerious almost spoke Mrs. Danmonet's name again, but something stopped her. She…she has come for them…The woman thought back to exactly _who_ had been pursuing her ever since she entered Vaseria. She thought to when she first met the hooded form in castle Frankenstein, and to when Vladislaus himself told her of what importance she was. She…

"She…she's here isn't she? In the manor." Dracula stayed silent, but his answer to the question was all to clear to the woman still locked in his vice like grip. 'She' was here.

A voice beneath them shook Rawnie out of her trance like state. Mrs. Danmonet was calling her name a floor below, the old woman's tone stronger than she had ever heard it before. It was…frightening. A jerk of her body from the count brought her eyes back up to his.

"Your Danmonet…she is a puppet, a tool. She will only bring you to my controller."

Her eyes ran over his face briefly before her eyes narrowed, "And what is your task, Dracula?"

The pale man tilted his head slightly at this question, staring down his nose at her. If he was telling her the truth and his hairpiece was back into the hands of 'her', then the count was under 'her' control. He would be forced back into doing what 'she' tells him to do. Why wouldn't 'she' tell him to collect Rawnie?

"Why wouldn't you bring me to your controller as well?" she posed her thoughts, "Isn't that your job? Her errand boy?" Where this daring came from, she hadn't the foggiest. He never answered her, only bared his teeth while the hint of more voices sounded downstairs. Rawnie was sure that she knew his intentions, forced or not.

"Where is Van Helsing?" she whispered, internally bracing for any kind of reaction he might have. Again, she felt his fingers tighten on her already sore arms.

"He is alive. All of your companions are well."

"Are you lying?"

"Dear Rawnie," he mumbled with a chuckle that showed how irritated he was, "I am many things, but a liar I am not."

"I-," Rawnies words were cut short by a pang stabbing its way over her shoulder and down the rest of her arm. A sound of agony tore out of her mouth as her legs buckled beneath her. However, the counts iron clutch kept her from collapsing into a pile. A heated thump pulsated up her neck and on up her face. From behind the throbbing trumpeting in her ears, she could hear the voices getting closer. Closer to her refuge…their refuge.

The count jerked her up so her legs were again straight beneath her. His cold eyes peered around her briefly before darting back to her face, which was twisting in pain. The voices in her head, she thought, were better than this torture. The dark man looked her in the eye before twisting her around to face the other direction. Rawnies head swam at this sudden movement, hardly even noticing when the vampire pulled away the bit of robe that was covering the inflamed scar. As he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, cramming her against his front, they both could make out the sounds of feet ascending the stairs nearby. The gypsy's first reaction was to hide, but her body only stayed standing limply in the counts rough embrace. He was going to hand her over…he was going to give her to that thing and the traitorous Mrs. Danmonet. He…

Another shot of pain entered her shoulder as quickly as it dissipated. A stomach turning squelching noise entered her ear before her world began to become foggy around the edges. Even though she was held up, she felt her equilibrium begin to slip and subconsciously grabbed only the arm of the vampire that was pulled around her. She felt his raven hair along her bare neck and shoulder, but dismissed the sensation of something pouring out of her scar. The elderly face of Danmonet appeared before her as she reached the top of the stairs, her eyes widening at the site before her. Her thin-lipped mouth opened and closed a few times before she turned and started down the stairs again. Rawnie wasn't sure, but she thought she could hear the older woman shrieking out…

"Mistress! He has her, he has her in his teeth!" the startled voice rang out and faded with distance. Behind her, she could feel a strong rumbling in Draculas chest, the other cohesive thing she was really holding on to. Her eyelids struggled to stay open while her vision blurred, and fuzzed. She thought she saw more people entering the library. She thought she heard another familiar voice scream at Vladislaus Dragulia to release her. Before darkness overcame her, Rawnie felt the counts grip on her constrict as a hazy figure approached them.

* * *

**There it is. Hope you liked it. Oh, and I have a little fun nugget to give anyone who read this. I have created a music video with Dracula and Rawnie. It's posted on YouTube at this address: ****.com/watch?v=L1RqxcNi6kU . Or just go there and look up 'A Demon In My Arms'. So, by all means watch it. It is for you after all. And…REVIEW!!!**


	15. Truth in the Labyrinth

**Alright, here's the new chapter. Didn't take a year to get this one up did it? Heh, here's a link to the music video again:**

.com/watch?v=L1RqxcNi6kU&feature=channel_page

Chapter Fifteen: Truth in the Labyrinth

She was cold. The moment Rawnie Valerious' mind bubbled out of unconsciousness, the icy chill around her grabbed hold of her senses. With eyes still tightly shut, she wrapped her bare arms around herself. Beneath her, she could feel a small amount of warmth coming from a poorly constructed mattress baring no blankets to speak of. She attempted to bring her knees up to her chest to conserve her body heat, but the action was slow and strenuous from some kind of new, thick fabric folded over her legs. Her torso also rejected the simple movement, calling attention to the tightness that was firmly wrapped around her midsection and chest. As her mind cleared even more, she came to the conclusion that she was, in fact, clothed in something. However, she was still horribly cold.

Cracking her eyes open finally, the woman's eyes slowly adjusted to the poor lighting that inhabited whatever room she was in. Rawnie soon discovered that she was not familiar with this room; this was not a room in her home. Pushing herself up off the lumpy thing below her, she carefully took in the details of her surroundings. The bed she was now sitting on was fairly large, but apparently had many years on it. Around her, bits of furniture spotted the walls, each one covered thickly in dust. The old, wood floor below was no different. The walls themselves probably once held a rich color, but now they were desperately faded. One large window peered outside, ragged drapes hanging over the glass in pieces. However, the one thing that caught her interest most of all was the door across the room. The exit. She did not know where she was, but as the last memories she had before falling into darkness where that of people. People trying to take her. Wherever she was, Rawnie knew she did not want to be there.

Sliding off the edge of the bed, the Valerious was finally forced to look down at herself when the clicks of fine shoes hit the floor instead of the thump of her boots. She was dressed in…a dress. As she stepped further away from the bed, the long trail of fine fabric behind her flopped to the floor, clearly showing the extent of the garment. It was black, so black that it made her skin appear as if it were as white as snow. The pressure she felt along her midsection was an extremely clinched corset, pulling her body into a shape that she never would have achieved naturally. The cloth the gown was made of was smooth, possibly silk, and was covered in delicate stitched designs. The woman couldn't help but flick at the milky pearls that were draped across the front of the dress as she gazed down at herself. Rawnie had never been placed in such a garment before, and she may have thoroughly enjoyed prancing around the room in the gown for a moment if her situation had not been so serious. However, she was forced passed the spectacle of herself and towards the closed door.

She knew it had to be locked. Why would they put a prisoner in a room that wasn't locked? 'Then again,' she thought as she reached for the handle, 'why would they put me in a dress?' It was odd to be sure, and it became even more odd when the door easily pulled open, revealing a large, empty hallway. Even more cold air rushed at her as she peeked around the doorframe into the darkened corridor. This whole place was freezing…and, as she glared out into the hall, she realized that she may know this freezing place after all.

"Castle Frankenstein," she mumbled. She remembered these dank surroundings from when she had been sprinting threw them not too long ago. Her mind tentatively tried to put some pieces together as she roamed down the hall in whichever direction she deemed appropriate.

Her last visit to the castle introduced her to that…thing. The thing that knew a little too much about Van Helsing for his taste, and paid a little too much attention to Rawnie than she was comfortable with. The same 'thing' that was holding Dracula under its control. His 'master'. The wondering woman just knew that as she turned the next corner she would find this 'master' staring her down. However, she was only met with another empty hallway that led to a large, open door.

Beyond the doorway she could see the glow of a brighter light than was offered in the hall. For a moment, Rawnie halted in her footsteps, nervous about approaching a lit room where anything and anyone could be residing. The first thought that flooded her mind was that a loose Dracula, or worse, his master would be waiting in this room. The second was the possibility of finding Van Helsing or Charlie…The thought of discovering one of her lost comrades pushed her forward slowly.

Her bare hand ran across the rough wall as she walked, as if needing to keep her balance. The other hand gripped onto the smooth fabric of her gown, keeping up pulled up and away from her feet that were behaving quite clumsily in the shoes she found herself in. The echo of the damnable heels echoed ever so slightly over the corridor, making her wince each step with the knowledge that she could be easily heard. Even though her paranoia forced her to shoot a look over her shoulder every now and again, she never found that she was being tracked, and as far as she could tell there was no loud movement in the room ahead that would announce that she had been detected.

Just as she approached the light flowing from the door she stopped, hovering in the shadow just beyond. From what she could see the room was large, and like the hallway, devoid of life. However, an odd scent wafted through the doorway and under her nose. It was not the horrible stench that she had caught during her first visit to the castle, no, this was…delightful. It was warm, spicy, and instantly made her stomach rumble beneath the confines of her dress. It smelled like food. Rawnies mouth began to fill with saliva at the thought of a meal, making her wonder just how long she had been laying unconscious in this place. Slowly, her hand reached out and pushed the door open even further, allowing her full access to the chamber.

The source of the light became very obvious the moment she entered. A large, nearly obnoxiously so, fireplace was going full blaze, sending much needed heat into the room. Even with that light source, there were candles specking the area, adding to the glow. The inspection of the light did not last long, however. Instead, the woman's attention moved over to a long table situated to the right. Food, a great deal of food, was piled over its smooth surface. There were meats and breads, fruits and vegetables, all there begging her to reach out and pluck a piece. Before she knew it, Rawnie had crossed the floor and was now staring down at the potential feast. The grease shining along the skin of the poultry nearly made her grab it in its entirety and bite into it like an animal. A red apple was perched near the edge of the table as if it would topple off at any moment, almost as if it were a ploy to get her to catch it, to hold it in her hand. It was all so tempting…

She stepped back. As hungry as she was, her brain was screaming out that something was off. The dress was wrong, the offering of food was wrong. That delicious apple could easily be poisoned, as could the meat. So, clutching her stomach, Rawnie backed away slowly from the table, for the first time in her life, not giving into temptation.

"Are you not hungry?"

The voice behind her sent her spinning on her heels, her heart skipping a beat, and her breath tightening. Her wild eyes searched around the room for the person who gave her a fright. What she found made her empty stomach leap in anxiety and her already heaving heart to clinch. The woman backed towards the loaded table once again, forcing distance between herself and the person. She was sure a confused expression took over her face as she spoke.

"Se-Seareinty?" she choked out as she continued to stare wide-eyed at the elderly woman. She only returned the stare, her expression even and calm. She was dressed in garments not unlike those Rawnie first saw her in. She was poised, graceful, and at the moment, very frightening. Her expression gave nothing away, but the younger woman felt danger rolling off of her in waves.

"Oh, my dear, you seem startled. What is the matter?" Seareinty said, slowly walking towards the shaken woman. The moment she spoke, Rawnies mind went into reverse, thinking back to her last few moments of consciousness. She could hear Mrs. Danmonet screeching, '_he has her in his teeth!_', then the muddy sound of another woman's voice, ordering Dracula to release her. She remembered his hold on her tightening as she began to fade…

'_She has come for both of us, dear Rawnie…_'

"Child, you look as if you need to sit down," Seareinty cooed. As more smooth words poured from her mouth, Rawnie found herself coming to a realization. That woman's voice in the tower did sound familiar. The woman thought back to her past encounters with the older woman, and how she made her uneasy. Those eyes, those eerily calm eyes were always on her. Rawnies heart began to pound so hard she was forced to bring a hand up to clutch her chest. In front of her, the other woman simply watched in some twisted kind of curiosity.

"You brought me here…" Rawnie began.

"I brought you here so you could kill the-"

"Stop it!" the Valerious shrieked, doing nothing to rattle the elder. "You brought me here, to this castle. Why? Why am I really in Vaseria?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't lie!" again, she screamed, her voice and countenance becoming unsteady from the jagged thoughts that were running through her head. Putting more distance between herself and the old woman, Rawnie moved to the other side of the long table, leaning on it for support. "Why am I here? Why am I dressed like this? Where is everyone?"

"My dear, I assure you they are safe. As for your garments, I found you in quite a…vulnerable state. These were all clothes that I could find for you here," the woman explained, "I had to get you out of that house, Ms. Valerious. That monster had gotten loose-"

"How could you know that?" Rawnie spat back, nearly taking the other woman off guard. "How could you know he had gotten loose?"

After a pause, Seareinty spoke again.

"I was approaching your home-"

"I don't believe you," the gypsy said, cutting her off, "Whatever you say, I don't believe you."

The elderly woman stayed quiet after this, her expression shifting slightly as the younger woman stared her down. For Rawnie, the air became even more thick with tension. That nagging voice in the back of her head told her to turn tail and get out of the room, to try and find Van Helsing…or possibly Dracula.

"Where is Dracula?" Seareinty's head tilted at this question, her eyes looking down her thin nose at the shaken woman.

"Why is that creature of any importance to you?" she answered with another question, a small smile cracking over her face. This only made the Valerious clench in some kind of fear. She didn't know if she should answer…she didn't know if she should lie. Why was he of any importance to her? The lack of voice in her head, urging her to do things gave her a simple answer. He freed her from her scar, if only briefly. But, is that why she felt so compelled to find out where he had gone to? Did it have nothing to do with the taste of cherries and wine he had left on her mouth? No…of course not. Count Dracua was a vampire, a monster…a beautiful monster.

"He-" Rawnies voice choked at an unfortunate time and she shook her head at showing any form of weakness for the vampire. "He is not important."

"Now it is my turn to show my disbelief," Seareinty gave a light chuckle and shook her head, "However, it is good to see that you have become so…accustom to him"

This brought Rawnie's head shooting up towards the slowly approaching woman. Good? Even though the idea of this old woman bringing her here to kill the vampire had left her mind, the queen was still taken aback by this. Seareinty still gazed at her with that smile that sent a chill up her spine, bringing her to back further away from the table and into the open area of the room.

"It will make things much easier, Rawnie Valerious." This speaking of her full name sent her mind swirling again. It brought on thoughts of her previous visit to the castle.

'_All that matters is that you are here, Rawnie Valerious. Only you, Rawnie Valerious…'_

"Who are you?" Rawnie hissed silently at her newfound enemy. The woman gave a full smile, like the one she offered when they first met, and let out a deep breath.

"Oh, Rawnie Valerious, I have no name…no true name."

'_I have no name, no true name.'_

Rawnie was panicking. These words were familiar, too familiar. Before she knew it, her already bruised back hit the wall, its cold surface refusing her anymore distance from the eerie woman. As if sensing her uneasiness, Seareinty came to a stop not two yards away from her, continuing to look upon her with something that Rawnie could only identify as humor.

"Rawnie Valerious, I must say I'm glad to see you're still relatively in one piece."

_'So glad to see you're still relatively in one piece.'_

"Stop!" the gypsy screamed. "Take me to Gabriel, tell me where Dra-"

"He is here," the elder answered before the name could be fully spoke, and she produced a small silver object from the folds of her garment. She showed the piece in an almost pompous manner to the younger woman. "He is back where he belongs."

"That-" Rawnie started as she gazed down at the object. It was a hairclip. She recognized this hairclip. It was Draculas hairclip.

"I feel as if I should thank you for keeping it safe for me, Rawnie Valerious. I was afraid it had been lost."

"You're-" The gypsy tried to breathe normally, but the longer she looked at the sliver clip, the harder it was to catch her breath. This clip belonged to Dracula's master, giving them the power to control the vampire. The power to make him move on their slightest whim. "You're her…you're…"

"The beasts' keeper," the words came in a rougher, more hissed voice. This voice had echoed over the walls of Castle Frankenstein when Gabrielf Van Helsing and Rawnie Valerious had first entered. This voice…she knew this voice.

Pushing herself away from the wall, Rawnie darted to the door, her steps made awkward by the heels. This woman who had brought her back home, this woman she had given trust to, was something else entirely. Something sinister. She needed to get away from this dark being. Her hands reached out towards the doorway, swinging herself around and back into the entrance of the dim hall. Her fleeing was interrupted abruptly though, as the sight of a few small, vicious…people met her eyes. Her mind struggled to pull the name of these things from her mind, but she was forced to back into the room and slam the door as they began letting out a harsh sound. Hearing the door click shut, Rawnie took a deep breath and cautiously looked back toward the creature she only knew as Seareinty, who was currently holding an amused expression.

"You must forgive the Dwergi. They can't help themselves."

Shuffling her feet across the floor, Rawnie snatched up a heavy candlestick. Throwing the bright candle to the ground, she brandished the metal item in both hands in front of her. Her palms were sweating and her arms were shaking, but she still managed to keep a firm grip on her makeshift weapon. Being forced to remain in the room with the chilling woman was something she was definitely not comfortable with, and would be extremely happy if the opportunity to swing a large candlestick made itself known.

"You are so comfortable with Vladislaus, and yet you find me so revolting?" Seareinty laughed and gracefully placed herself down in one of the large chairs surrounding the table. "Of course, I'm sure I'm not the only one who questions your brand of friends."

"Would you be quiet," the Valerious whispered.

"Gabriel Van Helsing, with all his virtues, must have a problem with your…relationship with Vladislaus."

"Shut your mouth," again, Rawnie spoke through gritted teeth.

"He was so accustom to his Anna, that your…sinful actions must bother him. After all, you're not Anna. You will never be Anna, will you? Not as long as _he_ holds a place in your thoughts."

"Quiet!" the young woman's voice echoed loudly off the walls as she hurled the candlestick across the room, aimed at the grinning woman's head. The object flew fast, but it was no match for Seareinty's quick reaction. The wrinkled, fragile hand lurched forward, snatching the projectile out of the air in a tight grip. Rawnie clenched her hands roughly at her sides in anger and curled her lip. The heavy object was tossed to the floor like some child's toy and the older woman watched it roll away.

"Temper, temper, Rawnie Valerious. I would hate to see you strain yourself. You do have an ordeal ahead of you." She wiped the smile from her face, and took on a serious expression.

"Be quiet. I'm tired of hearing your voice…" Rawnie murmured.

"You said you wanted to know why you were here not more than a few minutes ago. Have you changed your mind?" The gypsy queen wrapped her arms around herself and leaned back against the cold wall once more. She was going to tell why she was brought here? It seemed hard to believe that the information could come that easy, but it was hard to resist.

"What ordeal?"

"Now, there's my girl," Seareinty muttered, "You were brought here to perform a very important task, a task that no other woman has been able to complete. Villager after village has been chosen to take it on, but unfortunately, all have ended as a meal for my pet."

"Dracula…" Rawnie whispered in regards to the 'pet' comment.

"You, however, have been at the forefront of my attention for quite some time, Rawnie Valerious. Your past misfortune turns out to be my good fortune."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Just as the Valerious woman began to sneer at the dark creature sitting across the room, she was pushed further into the stone wall by one aged hand. Seareinty stared down at her from her new position of gripping at the young woman's neck.

"I am talking about the powerful being that you hold within your mind and blood. I speak of the power of your mark!" the harsh voice slithered out before another hand clenched the raw wound the count had opened on her already red scar. She let out a small shriek at the pressure over the puncture marks.

"You have a strength to fulfill the task, thanks to Verona's unintentional gift. The woman with the might of the bride. You can surely withstand it."

"Withstand what?" Rawnie coughed out from behind the strong hand of Seareinty. The older woman moved the hand that was clutching the scar and brushed it almost tenderly over the younger woman's face.

"You will be the mother, Rawnie Valerious," she whispered. "The mother of the new era. You will bring night down on the world once more."

"You're not making sense!" the confused one cried out, and began to flail her arms and legs at her captor in an attempt to free herself. However, the frail appearing woman did not founder.

"You will bring forth the child that will spread the gift, the gift that the father no longer possesses. You will be the mother of vampire kind."

Rawnie heard the words, and only reacted by thrashing violently. This old woman was insane! She scratched at her arms and face, kicked at her legs, but the hand around her throat never let up. Her eyes closed as her mind tried to ignore what she knew Seareinty was telling her. It was too much…it was wrong, so very wrong. Suddenly, the elderly woman hurled the frightened gypsy across the room.

Rawnie collided with the floor and skidded several more feet before coming to a painful stop. Her already bruised body screamed at her in rebellion against the harsh treatment, and she had to hold back a moan of discomfort as she pushed herself up enough to look back at the wicked creature that was bringing all of this on her. A strange smile was spread across Seareinty's lips that made the younger woman want to curl up into a tiny ball. Her hands grazed over the rough floor as she tried to get enough balance to bring herself up further. However, her fingertips were interrupted by the cool, shining surface of an elegant boot.

Her body almost rocked with a sob. She didn't have too look to see whose boots were blocking any backward motion. She could feel the power of his presence ram into her, nearly slamming her flat onto the floor. For the first time since she first approached him in that little cell, Rawnie felt the raw strength of Dracula fill the room. It was tearing at her already ragged emotions, but nonetheless, she glanced upward to his form. He was a black shadow among the bright candlelight in the room. His hair pooled around his face and shoulders as he looked down at her, eyes aflame with a blue fire. The Valerious shoved herself across the floor slowly, away from the vampire that she felt so familiar with, yet at the same time, so distant from. Seareinty was saying something to her, but she found herself ignoring the words. Instead, as she shakily stood from the floor, she wanted desperately to scream out at the vampire. She wanted to get him to say something that would make her feel like he was…him. It was stupid of her, she knew, to expect more of a monster…but, she felt all the more distraught knowing that while the clip was in the hands of Seareinty, his monstrous doings were not of his own accord. She wanted to believe that the same monster that had left this taste of cherries and wine on her lips was not the creature in front of her. The creature that was staring at her as if she were prey.

"Dracula…" her voice was as shaky as her body as she spoke. The sound of Rawnie's voice did nothing to shake the vampire from his predator stare and she felt dreadfully alone at that moment.

"Vladislaus," Seareinty called out from behind, "this is what you are here for. Complete the task and bring your kind back unto the world of mortals. Take the girl, and bring forth the child!"

Rawnie didn't dare turn her gaze away from Dracula as the order was given. She tried to push down any thoughts that the count, in all his behavior before, was purposefully trying to bring himself closer to the her for this reason. She told herself that he wouldn't lower himself to conspiring with Seareinty if a choice was given to him. That's what she tried to tell herself…

He took a step toward her, and the woman's fight or flight reaction kicked in as she made for the door. Her mind screamed that behind a flock of Dwergi would be waiting. However, a choice between an attacking vampire and a few snarling dwarfs was an easy decision to make. Throwing the heavy door back, she was briefly stopped by the appearance of an empty hall. Perhaps the approach of Dracula had frightened away his own servants. She took little time to ponder this, and began a clumsy sprint down the hall. Turning the sharp corner, Rawnie glanced back over her shoulder to see, again, an empty hallway. The knowledge that Dracula was not quickly perusing her did nothing to slow her down though.

The stone walls whooshed by her as she made turn after random turn, not knowing where she was going in the castle, but wanting to get as far away from that room as possible. She was sure sweat was beading up on her skin as she struggled to keep her speed in the heavy garments and the glamorous shoes. Her mind seemed numb as she blindly moved, running like a frightened animal. She couldn't think about Van Helsing, Carl, or even Charlie. Her tensed brain only focused on the fact that a dangerous creature was pursuing her, like a hawk zooming in on a rabbit. Or better yet, a bat catching up to a moth. Even as the corridor she was moving through broke open into a large chamber containing a steep set of stairs, she refused to look anywhere but in front of her. One shaking hand swooped down and pulled one shoe, then the other from her feet, willing to expose them to the rough floor beneath for more speed.

Swiftly, she padded down the stairs, breath heaving and nerves firmly rattled. At the bottom, she took to her right and swung open yet another door that led to another, plain looking, redundant hallway. Closing the heavy door behind her, Rawnie collapsed to the ground, her hand still hanging tightly from the metal handle. For a few, sane moments, she tried to figure out what part of the castle she was in. Surely not the bottom floor…surely not the top…She struggled to think of how many floors castle Frankenstein was made of. She drew a blank.

Her inability to think of that one thing, brought her irritation and weariness of the situation to a head, and her eyes clouded with tears. Where was she going to go? What was she going to do? These questions bounced around her skull, giving her a splitting headache. Drawing her knees up as much as she was able, the Valerious woman took in a deep breath of the stale air around her, letting the water in her eyes spill over. Somewhere near, she knew, Dracula was probably waiting and watching, following his masters' orders. This thought only made her face distort in some kind of misplaced sorrow. She could feel her chest cramp up in reaction to it all, and she moved a chilled hand to cover her chest and shoulder.

How could she have let this happen?

In the back of her mind, she could picture Van Helsing asking her what she was talking about. Letting Seareinty do this, or letting herself become so…attached to Vladislaus Dragulia? It was difficult to say aloud, even to herself, that the situation was made all the more challenging by the fact that she could still vividly remember the feel of his hands on her, and the coldness of his lips on hers. She had played with the caged beast, and now he was out.

She eventually released the handle above her head, letting her fingers move roughly across her face, smearing the tears. She needed to get up and moving again. At any moment, the vampire would be upon her and she would be helpless to stop him in this state…or at any state really. The hand along her shoulder squeezed the scar, almost for comfort, before pushing herself from the floor as silently as she was able. Putting pressure on her feet again, she could feel the sweet stinging of nicks and cuts along the soles. She could feel webs along her dress, and dust in her hair. The lovely picture that she had presented before was gone, washed away with the task of running from a monster.

A sound outside the door made her relatively limp body stiffen like a board. Boots…it was the sound of boots along stone, coming closer, and closer to the door. Turning the face it, Rawnie backed away from the thing that blocked whoever was in the chamber from her. She was protected by four inches of steel and wood. It may as well have been a fragile piece of paper to someone like Dracula.

As the footsteps stopped, the woman ran. Imperfections in the stone ripped at the flesh of her feet, but she paid it no mind. The hallway was long and dark, with only a small window at its end to allow moonlight to pour in. As she gained more ground, she could make out the shadows of more doors on either side of the corridor. Her throat let out a choked sound at the reminder of how much of a labyrinth the castle really was. These could lead to more hallways, larger rooms, smaller rooms, or more creatures in the place that she did not want to meet up with. That did not faze her though, as she reached and pulled for the first door she came too.

"Damn it!" she growled as it refused to budge. Brown eyes, shot do the hall once to see if anyone else was sharing this area with her. Luckily, she was still alone. However, the thought of those footsteps beyond the door kept her moving and trying the other passages. The second, locked. The third, locked. The fourth…it swung open so easily that Rawnie was almost tossed off balance.

A small stair well met her beyond this door. Carefully pulling the door shut behind her, Rawnie stepped down, hunching at the short ceiling. She placed her hands on the narrow walls at her sides in case these small steps and concave ceiling got the best of her. Beyond, she could see that the small space opened up into another room that seemed to go on forever. Few torches could be found lining the walls, giving the room the same dim light that seemed to cover the entire building. Cautiously walking into the area, the woman pulled her dress up once again, preparing to make for another run if need be. She felt as if she where to make any sound, it would echo forever in the empty, cavernous room that made her feel oh so small. So small and so vulnerable.

An uncomfortable lump caught in her throat, forcing her to gulp nervously. Her eyes darted back and forth across the room, making her look like a deer crossing a wolf infested plain. Even if she were to walk along the wall, she felt as if she would be horribly in sight for anything or anyone that wondered into the room. She needed to get out before she had a nervous breakdown. At the far end of the room was another door, an exit. Her swollen feet moved at a quicker pace as he realized more and more how uncomfortable she was in this room. She felt as if she was being watched…hunted. She immediately glanced up at the ceiling, somehow knowing that Dracula would be there, ready to strike. However, only dusty stone met her brown eyes. Her hands began to shake at the sudden paranoia that came over her. She started to feel more and more like the child she had been all those years ago in the woods. Alone, defenseless, and chased by a killer.

Be it from the old structure or something else, some sound sprang forth from behind her and reverberated over the room. This made her jump into a lame run for the door that seemed so far away. Her hand reached out prematurely for the handle, bringing back memories of her race for the cell door with Van Helsing. She was running to give some kind of protection to her catch, Dracula, back then. Now she was running from him. Just as Gabriel had said…

If she had felt more secure, Rawnie would have let out a victory scream as her hand touched down on the cold, metal handle. Giving it a good yank with a smile, she felt the air of the area on the other side hit her. However, screaming past the feeling of a small triumph was pain. Pain took over the left side of her face as she suddenly found herself on the ground. Her vision swirled and head struggled for some kind of sense of this happening. Blinking hard, she stared down at the floor that was suddenly so close to her face. She craned her head upward, immediately wincing at the strong thudding in her ear. She had been hit. She had been hit hard.

Look up from her now prostate position, a figure, distorted by her jostled senses stood over her. Fear clutched at Rawnie as she tried to push herself away from the assaulting person. She closed her head and shook her head, as if moving pieces around in her brain. A strangled groan passed her lips as the colors of the floor as well as the rocky details began to come into focus again. Rolling her eyes up to this person once again, the Valerious had to narrow her eyes to see the face.

When she did, the air quickly dissipated from her body.

"Oh my god."

**Another chapter down! Hope you liked it, and by all means, REVIEW! **

**Here's the link again:** .com/watch?v=L1RqxcNi6kU&feature=channel_page


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